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THE 


LIBRARY 

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CONDUCTED 
Br   JARED   SPARKS 


VOL.   VII 


NEW    YORK: 

HARPER   &  BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS. 
1854. 


I  •  J 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congreu  in  UM  ywr  1837, 

by  JARXD  SPAHKS, 
to  the  Clerk',  office  of  the  District  Com*  of  the  Dtotrlct  of  MawachiwetU. 


LIVES 

•%f 

aw 

SIR   WILLIAM    PHIPS, 

ISRAEL   PUTNAM, 
LUCRETIA  MARIA  DAVIDSON, 

AND 

DAVID   RITTENHOUSE 


NEW    YORK: 
R   &   BROTHERS.    PUBLISHERS. 


•-•  n 
r-:-  •  •",'  •—  .-.c  fr  is/u- 


CONTENTS. 


LIFE  OF  SIB  WILLIAM  PHIPS, 
Br  FRANCIS  BOWEN. 


Preface.   .    .    .    .j  .flim^Hy    •  -: ' 

• 

CHAPTER  I. 

His  JBirth  and  Early  Occupation.  —  Goes  to 
Boston  as  a  Ship-Carpenter.  —  His  Mar 
riage. —  Visits  England  and  obtains  the 
Command  of  the  Algier-Rose.  —  Unsuccess 
ful  Cruise. — Sent  out  again  by  the  Duke 
of  Albemarle.  —  Returns  with  a  Spanish 
Treasure. — Receives  the  Honor  of  Knight 
hood.  ...  •/  jP:^  ...  ... 

-     •     .•.:L-~ .  '. 

CHAPTER  II 

State  of  Affairs  in  New  England.  —  Phips 
returns  thither  as  High  Sheriff".  —  Goes  to 
England  again. — Deposition  of  Andros  at 
Boston.  —  Phips  returns.  —  French  and  In- 


VI  CONTENTS. 

dian  War.  —  Successful  Expedition  against 
Acadia. — Particulars  respecting  the  Plun 
der  taken  at  Port  Royal.  26 

CHAPTER  III. 

Naval  Expedition  under  Flaps  against  Quebec. 
— Its  Failure.  — Disasters  to  a  Part  of  the 
Fleet  on  its  Return.  .  .  .  'v.;|fc-(  J**",-'1  60 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Difficulties  created  by  the  Failure  of  the  Can 
ada  Expedition.  — Issue  of  Paper  Money.— 
Phips  goes  to  England. — Negotiations  re 
specting  the  Renewal  of  the  Charter.  —  New 
Charter  granted,  and  Phips  appointed  Gov 
ernor. —  His  Return,  and  Reception  at  Bos 
ton. —  Salem  Witchcraft. 68 

CHAPTER  V. 

Legislative  Acts. — Indian  War. — Attack  up 
on  Wells. — Building  of  Fort  William  Hen 
ry.  —  Elections  in  May,  1693.  —  Unpopu 
larity  of  Phips.  —  Peace  concluded  with  the 
Indians  at  Pemaquid.  —  Phips  quarrels  with 
Short  and  Brenton.  —  Recalled  to  England. 
—  His  Death  and  Character.  .  84 


CONTENTS.  VII 


LIFE  OF  ISRAEL  PUTNAM, 

Br  OLIVER  W.  B.  PEABODT. 

CHAPTER  I. 

His  Birth  and  Education. — Becomes  a  prac 
tical  Farmer.  —  Singular  Adventure  in  kill 
ing  a  Wolf.  —  Enters  the  Army  as  Captain 
of  a  Company  of  Rangers.  —  Engages  in 
the  War  against  the  French  and  Indians  on 
the  Canada  Frontiers.  105 


CHAPTER  II. 

Raised  to  the  Rank  of  Major.  —  Various  Ad 
ventures  in  the  War.  —  Capture  of  Fort 
William  Henry.  —  Putnam  stationed  near 
Fort  Edward.  —  Encounters  the  Enemy  at 
South  Bay. — Expedition  against  Ticonder- 
oga.  —  Death  of  Lord  Howe 123 

CHAPTER  III. 

Perilous  Descent  of  the  Rapids  at  Fort  Miller. 

—  Battle  with  the  Indians.  —  Putnam  taken 
Prisoner  and  treated  witJi  great  Cruelty.  — 
Sent  to  Ticonderoga,  and  thence  to  Montreal. 

—  Exchanged,  and  returns  to  the  Army.  — • 


Till  CONTENTS 


Colonel  Schuyler. —  Putnam  is  commissioned 
Lieutenant-Colonel.  —  Serves  under  General 
Amherst.  —  Takes  part  in  the  Expedition 
against  Havana.  —  Engaged  in  an  Enter 
prise  against  the  Western  Indians.  —  Re 
tires  from  the  Army  after  ten  Years'  Service.  141 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Colonel  Putnam  opposes  the  Stamp  Act.  —  Goes 
to  Mississippi  River  to  select  Lands.  —  His 
Intimacy  with  the  British  Officers  in  Boston. 

—  Hastens  to  the  Army  on  hearing  of  the 
Battle  of  Lexington.  —  Made  a  Brigadier- 
General  of  the  Connecticut  Troops.  —  Battle 

of  Bunker's  Hill Id 

CHAPTER  V. 

Putnam  is  appointed  Major-General  in  the  Con 
tinental  Army.  —  Remains  at  Cambridge  till 
the  Evacuation  of  Boston.  —  Commands  at 
New  York.  —  Suggests  a  Mode  of  obstruct 
ing  the  Navigation  of  the  Hudson,  to  pre 
vent  the  Enemy's  Vessels  from  ascending  it. 

—  Commands  on  Long  Island.  —  New  York 
evacuated.  —  Retreat    through  New  Jersey, 
Putnam  stationed  at  Philadelphia,  and  af 
terwards  at  Princeton.  —  Anecdotes  178 


CONTENTS.  IX 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Putnam  commands  in  the  Highlands.  —  Opera 
tions  during  the  Campaign.  —  The  British 
ascend  the  Hudson. —  General  Putnam  su- 
perintends  the  Construction  of  the  Fortifica 
tions  at  West  Point.  —  His  perilous  Adven 
ture  at  Horseneck.  —  Retires  from  the  Army 
in  Consequence  of  a  Paralytic  Attack.  —  His 
Death.  —  His  military  and  personal  Char 
acter.  .  199 


MEMOIR  OF  LUCRETIA  MARIA  DAVIDSON, 

BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  "  REDWOOD,"  "  HOPE  LESLIE,"  &c.  219 


LIFE  OF  DAVID  RITTENHOUSE, 

BT  JAMES  RENWICK. 


CHAPTER  I. 
Introduction ,_   ..  ,.    297 

CHAPTER  II. 
His  Birth  and  Parentage.  .    .     303 


CHAPTER  III. 

His  Education.  —  Early  Indications  of  Me 
chanical  Genius.  —  Remarkable  Progress  in 
Mathematical  Learning.  ....  310 

CHAPTER  IV. 

His  Agricultural  Occupations.  —  Choice  of  a 
Profession.  —  Entrance  into  Business. — La 
borious  Pursuit  of  his  Trade  and  Scientific 
Studies.  —  Consequent  Injury  to  his  Health. 

—  Becomes  known  as  an  Artist  and  an  As 
tronomer.  —  His  Marriage.       .     •     .     .     .    317 

CHAPTER  V. 

Boundary  Line  of  Pennsylvania,  Delaware) 
and  Maryland.  —  Mason  and  Dixon's  Line. 

—  Boundary    of  Pennsylvania    and    New 
York.  .  324 


Experiments  on  Expansion.  —  Application  of 
them  to  the  Pendulum.  —  Metallic  Thermome 
ter.  —  Experiments  on  the  Compressibility 
of  Water.  —  Adaptation  of  Planetary  Ma 
chines  to  Clocks.  —  Project  of  an  Orrery.  332 


CONTENTS.  XI 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Preparations  for  Observing  the  Transit  of 
Venus  .....  ...  340 

ii'  /*v  v  **  * 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Observation  of  the  Transit  of  Venus.  —  Calf 
culation  of  the  Parallax  of  the  Sun.  .  .  348 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Transit  of  Mercury.  —  Longitudes  of  Phila 
delphia  and  Norriton.  —  Orrery  resumed.  — 
Comet  of  1770 356 

: 
CHAPTER  X. 

His  Second  Orrery.  —  Proposed  Removal  to 
Philadelphia.  — Loan-Office  Bill.  —  Gift  of 
the  Legislature.  —  Change  of  Residence.  — 
Election  as  Secretary  of  the  American  Philo 
sophical  Society. — Second  Marriage.  —  Pro 
posed  Public  Observatory 362 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Hi  i  Election  to  the  Legislature  of  Pennsylva 
nia.  —  First  Committee  of  Public  Safety.  — 

»/  •/        J 

Treasurer  of  the  State.  —  Capture  of  Phila- 


Xll  CONTENTS. 

A  v    ^  • 

delphia,  and  Removal  of  the  Treasury  to 
Lancaster.  —  Second  Committee  of  Public 
Safety .  —  Transit  of  Mercury  and  Solar 
Eclipses 369 

CHAPTER  XII. 

*  •*•  .w  v&  j 
Boundary  Lines  of  Pennsylvania  and  Vir 
ginia.  —  Division  Line  of  Pennsylvania  and 
New  York.  —  Demarkation  of  Territory  re 
served  by  Massachusetts  within  the  State  of 
New  York. 377 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

His  Appointment  as  Trustee  of  the  Loan-Office. 
— Retirement  from  Office  as  State  Treasurer. 

—  Private  Observatory.  —  Commissioner  to 
organize  a  Bank   of  the    United  States. — 
Director  of  the  Mint  of  the   United  States. 

—  Resignation  of  that  Office 384 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

He  is  elected  President  of  the  Democratic 
Society.  —  Declining  Health.  —  Death.  — 
Character. —  Literary  and  Scientific  Honors. 
•—  Conclusion.  392 


SIR    WILLIAM    PHIPS 


»        FRANCIS    BOWEN 


VOL.  vil.- 


COTTON  MATHER  wrote  a  life  of  Sir  William 
Phips,  which  was  first  published  in  London  in  a 
separate  form,  and  was  afterwards  included  in  the 
"  Magnalia."  He  was  intimately  acquainted  with 
the  subject  of  his  memoir ;  and  the  account  would 
be  entitled  to  full  credit,  did  not  his  well-known 
credulity,  and  the  partiality  which  he  everywhere 
shows,  throw  some  doubt  on  the  more  remarkable 
statements.  In  the  following  biographical  sketch, 
his  authority  has  been  followed  only  for  the  early 
part  of  Sir  William's  life,  since  the  account  of  his 
public  career  is  wholly  unsatisfactory. 

Careful  research  has  been  made  in  the  offices  of 
the  Secretary  of  State  of  Massachusetts,  and  of  the 
Massachusetts  Historical  Society ;  and,  though  noth 
ing  was  found  that  related  to  the  early  life  or  per 
sonal  character  of  Phips,  some  facts  were  brought 
to  light  respecting  the  two  military  expeditions 
which  he  commanded. 

The  particulars  respecting  the  capture  of  Port 
Royal  were  drawn  from  documents,  which,  with 


4  PREFACE. 

one  exception,  have  not  before  been  published. 
In  the  account  of  the  expedition  against  Quebec,  1 
have  relied  on  the  authority  of  Walley,  the  second 
in  command  of  the  troops  engaged,  whose  official 
relation  was  published  in  the  appendix  to  Hutch- 
inson's  "  History  of  Massachusetts  "  ;  and  on  that  of 
Major  Savage,  who  commanded  a  portion  of  the 
army,  and  whose  letter,  containing  a  history  of  the 
expedition,  may  be  found  in  the  Collections  of  the 
Historical  Society.  Some  statements  were  taken 
from  the  account  given  by  Hontan,  a  French  offi 
cer,  who  served  under  Frontenac  in  Quebec  at 
the  time  of  the  assault.  Hutchinson  discredits  the 
authority  of  this  writer,  but,  as  far  as  can  be  ascer 
tained,  without  sufficient  reason.  He  was  an  eye 
witness  of  what  he  relates,  and  his  narrative  agrees 
in  the  main  with  the  English  accounts.  In  the 
history  of  the  subsequent  part  of  Sir  William's  life, 
I  have  followed  Hutchinson. 


SIR    WILLIAM    PHIPS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

His  Birth    and   Early    Occupation.  —  Goes   t& 
Boston  as  a  Ship-  Carpenter.  —  His  Marriage 

—  Visits  England  and  obtains  the  Commana 
of  the  Algier-Rose.  —  Unsuccessful  Cruise.  — 
Sent   out  again  by  the  Duke  of  Albemarle. 

—  Returns  with  a  Spanish   Treasure.  —  Re 
ceives  the  Honor  of  Knighthood. 

IT  is  often  difficult  for  the  historian  to  distin 
guish  between  rash  adventure  and  well-concerted 
enterprise.  Judging  rather  from  success  in  the 
execution  of  a  plan,  than  from  the  inventive  genius 
and  foresight  displayed  in  its  formation,  mankind 
are  apt  to  give  to  wild  but  fortunate  daring  the 
praise,  which  is  due  only  to  judgment,  activity, 
and  skill,  even  when  unsuccessfully  exerted.  It 
has  been  well  observed  of  Columbus,  that,  had  he 
yielded  to  the  entreaties  of  his  crew  but  a  few 
hours  sooner  than  he  had  determined  to  do,  his 
name,  if  it  had  survived  at  all,  would  have  been 
remembered  only  as  that  of  a  half  insane  projector; 


6  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

and  the  lives  of  many  others,  who  have  risen  from 
obscurity  and  indigence  to  distinction  and  wealth, 
afford  full  proof,  that  the  allotment  of  fame  has 
been  as  arbitrary  as  the  distribution  of  the  other 
gifts  of  fortune.  A  mere  accident  has  formed  the 
turning  point  in  the  life  of  many  an  adventurer, 
and  given  him  that  success,  which  he  had  vainly 
sought  in  many  better  conceived  endeavours. 

The  truth  of  these  remarks  is  clearly  shown  m 
the  life  of  one  of  the  early  governors  of  New  Eng 
land,  —  a  man,  who,  in  an  age  far  less  favorable 
than  the  present  for  the  promotion  of  talent,  sought 
his  fortune  in  many  schemes  boldly  planned  and 
resolutely  executed,  and  found  it,  at  last,  by  fish 
ing  for  ship-wrecked  treasure  among  the  rocks  and 
shallows  of  the  Spanish  Main.  But  imperfect 
accounts  of  the  early  part  of  his  career  have  been 
preserved  ;  and  these,  from  the  strangeness  of  the 
incidents  recorded,  resemble  rather  the  fragments 
of  a  nursery  tale,  than  the  materials  of  sober  histo 
ry.  A  narrative  of  his  life  may  assist  in  doing 
justice  to  the  character  of  the  man,  and  throw  per 
haps  some  light  on  the  features  of  the  times  in 
which  he  lived. 

WILLIAM  PHIPS  was  born  February  2d,  1651, 
at  Woolwich,  Maine,  a  small  settlement  near  the 
mouth  of  the  river  Kennebec.  His  father,  James 
Phips,  a  gunsmith  by  trade,  emigrated  from  Bris 
tol,  England,  at  an  early  period  in  the  history  of 


SIRWILLIAMPHIPS.  7 

the  colonies,  and  fixed  his  residence  on  the  very 
borders  of  the  settlements.  He  had  twenty-six 
children,  all  of  one  mother,  of  whom  twenty-one 
were  sons.  Of  these,  William  was  one  of  the 
youngest,  and,  by  the  death  of  his  father,  he  was  left 
at  an  early  age  to  the  exclusive  management  of 
his  mother.  The  lowness  of  his  parents'  situation, 
and  the  dangers  and  hardships  incident  to  their  res 
idence  in  a  half-reclaimed  wilderness,  surrounded 
and  frequently  harassed  by  the  natives,  did  not  ad 
mit  of  their  bestowing  much  care  upon  the  educa 
tion  of  their  children. 

While  yet  very  young,  without  being  taught 
even  to  read,  William  was  employed  in  tending 
sheep,  and  he  continued  in  this  occupation  till  he 
was  eighteen  years  of  age.  But  this  business  was 
too  easy  and  uniform  to  satisfy  a  boy  of  a  restless 
and  adventurous  disposition.  The  sea  was  to  be 
his  element,  and  a  sailor's  life  of  wandering,  nov 
elty,  and  hardship,  was  the  only  one  which  pos 
sessed  any  attractions  for  his  active  temperament. 

Even  at  this  early  period,  the  colonists  had  en 
gaged  to  some  extent  in  navigation,  to  which,  in 
deed,  they  were  invited  by  the  peculiarity  of  their 
situation,  at  so  great  a  distance  from  the  rest  of  the 
civilized  world,  and  by  the  possession  of  the  no 
blest  harbors  and  navigable  streams.  The  forests, 
which  covered  the  banks  of  the  rivers,  offered  fa 
cilities  for  ship-building,  which  were  not  allowed  to 


8  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

remain  long  unimproved.  Unable  to  procure  a 
situation  on  board  a  vessel,  Phips  apprenticed  him 
self,  as  the  next  best  resource,  to  a  ship-carpenter, 
in  whose  employment,  probably  diversified  by 
an  occasional  coasting  trip,  he  remained  for  four 
years. 

At  the  expiration  of  this  time,  his  relatives  would 
fain  have  persuaded  him  to  settle  among  them , 
but,  if  we  may  credit  his  friend  and  biographer, 
Cotton  Mather,  some  visions  of  future  greatness 
had  already  visited  his  mind,  and  tempted  him  to 
seek,  in  a  wider  field  of  action,  the  fulfilment  of  his 
dreams.  He  would  privately  hint  to  his  friends, 
that  he  was  born  for  greater  matters ;  and,  as  the 
best  means  of  putting  himself  in  the  way  of  for 
tune,  he  removed,  in  1673,  to  Boston.  At  this 
place,  he  worked  at  his  trade  about  a  year,  and 
employed  his  leisure  hours  in  learning  to  read  and 
write.  Here  also  he  had  the  address  or  good  for 
tune  to  recommend  himself  to  the  notice  of  a  fair 
widow,  and,  by  marrying  her  soon  after,  laid  the 
foundation  of  his  future  success  in  life. 

His  wife  was  the  widow  of  a  merchant  by  the 
name  of  Hull,  and  the  daughter  of  Captain  Roger 
Spencer,  a  person  who  had  once  possessed  con 
siderable  property,  but  had  lost  the  greater  portion 
of  it  by  misplaced  confidence.  The  wife  of  Phips 
had  the  advantage  of  him,  both  in  years  and  for 
tune  ;  and  the  world,  which,  in  such  cases,  is  apt  to 


SIR     WILLIAM     PHIPS.  9 

» 

suspect  the  existence  of  mercenary  motives  in  one 
of  the  parties,  was  not,  perhaps,  in  this  particular 
instance,  much  mistaken  in  its  conjecture. 

The  marriage,  however,  seems  to  have  been  a 
happy  one.  The  lady  was  pleased  with  his  per 
son  and  address ;  he  did  not  dislike  her  fortune, 
and  was  not  disposed  to  complain  of  her  other 
qualifications  ;  and  if  he  remained  abroad  during  a 
considerable  port.ion  of  the  rest  of  his  life,  we  may 
well  consider  the  calls  of  his  profession  and  a  rov 
ing  disposition  as  a  sufficient  reason  for  his  wan 
derings,  without  supposing  that  there  was  any  want 
of  peace  and  comfort  at  home. 

The  addition  to  his  pecuniary  means  enabled 
him  to  extend  his  business  ;  and  he  entered  into  a 
contract  with  some  merchants  of  Boston  to  build 
them  a  vessel  on  Sheepscot  river,  at  a  place  a 
little  to  the  eastward  of  the  mouth  of  the  Kenne- 
bec.  Having  launched  the  ship,  he  engaged  to 
procure  a  lading  of  lumber,  and  return  to  Boston. 
But  unforeseen  circumstances  prevented  the  com 
pletion  of  this  design. 

The  Eastern  Indians,  either  from  the  imprudent 
conduct  of  the  settlers,  or  the  incitements  of  the 
French,  had  always  looked  with  a  jealous  eye 
upon  the  English  settlements  in  Maine.  The 
frequent  outbreak  of  hostilities  was  followed  only 
by  a  hollow  peace,  sure  to  be  broken  whenever  the 
natives  had  recovered  their  spirits  after  a  defeat 


10  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

• 

or  found  an  opportunity  for  striking  a  cruel  blow 
upon  an  unguarded  village.  Such  an  event  oc 
curred  immediately  after  Phips  had  launched  his 
vessel.  The  attack  of  the  savages  caused  the 
immediate  flight  of  the  defenceless  inhabitants, 
and  they  took  refuge  on  board  the  ship,  which  was 
yet  in  the  stream.  Thus  compelled  to  relinquish 
his  purpose  of  obtaining  a  cargo  of  lumber,  Phips 
immediately  sailed  away,  and  conveyed  the  dis 
tressed  people,  free  of  charge,  to  Boston. 

The  interruption  of  his  plans  by  this  incident 
caused  considerable  derangement  in  his  affairs,  and 
it  is  not  unlikely,  that  for  some  time  he  felt  the 
sharp  pressure  of  pecuniary  difficulties.  But  his 
sanguine  temperament  preserved  him  from  despon 
dency  ;  and  it  appears,  indeed,  that  his  dreams  of 
future  success  were  most  frequent,  when  present 
embarrassments  were  at  their  height.  We  are  told, 
that  he  would  frequently  console  his  wife  with  the 
assurance,  that  he  should  yet  obtain  the  command 
of  a  King's  ship,  and  become  the  owner  "  of  a  fair 
brick  house  in  the  Green  Lane  of  North  Boston." 
How  much  of  the  quaintness  of  these  expectations 
is  to  be  attributed  to  the  man,  and  how  much  to 
the  biographer,  we  cannot  determine.  He  had  in 
genuity  enough  to  form  magnificent  schemes,  and, 
as  his  subsequent  history  proves,  credulity  suffi 
cient  to  mistake  his  own  sanguine  anticipations  for 
mysterious  presentiments. 


SIR     WILLIAM     PHIPS.  11 

The  realization  of  these  golden  hopes  was  post 
poned  for  a  length  of  time,  which,  on  a  less  san 
guine  mind,  must  have  produced  all  the  bitter 
effects  of  entire  disappointment.  Hardly  any  ac 
count  is  preserved  of  his  history  for  the  next  ten 
years.  They  were  probably  spent  mostly  at  Bos 
ton,  in  the  industrious  exercise  of  his  profession  as 
a  ship-builder,  and  in  short  trading  voyages,  at 
tended  only  with  such  success  as  was  sufficient  to 
preserve  him  from  want,  and  diversified  by  the 
creation  of  projects,  which  perished  either  in  the 
formation,  or  in  the  earliest  stages  of  execution. 

It  was  not  till  about  the  year  1684,  that  a  pros 
pect  of  obtaining  wealth,  if  not  distinction,  was 
opened  to  him ;  and  that  came  from  a  quarter, 
to  which  few  men  but  himself  would  ever  have 
dreamed  of  looking.  We  cannot  tell  how  much 
judgment  he  manifested  in  embarking  in  such  a 
scheme,  without  regarding  the  peculiar  light  in 
which  such  enterprises  appeared  to  the  men  of  his 
own  times. 

The  sudden  influx  of  wealth  into  Spain,  during 
the  sixteenth  centurj ,  from  her  colonies  in  the  West 
India  Islands  and  South  America,  had  a  strange 
effect  in  heating  the  imaginations  and  exciting  the 
cupidity  of  all  the  nations  of  Europe,  who,  at  that 
time,  had  paid  any  attention  to  maritime  affairs. 
This  effect  was  increased  by  the  peculiarly  bril 
liant  and  tempting  form,  in  which  the  wealth  was 


12  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

displayed.  It  consisted  not  so  much  in  the  in 
crease  of  territory  and  in  the  extension  of  com 
merce,  as  in  the  actual  importation  of  large  quanti 
ties  of  bullion  and  coin.  As  the  first  in  the  field, 
the  Spaniards  enjoyed  the  entire  command  of 
these  sources  of  affluence,  and  the  subjects  of 
other  European  powers  could  share  the  gains  only 
by  secret,  contraband  expeditions,  or  by  open  war 
and  piracy. 

The  skill  and  daring  of  British  seamen  made 
them  foremost  in  such  attempts,  and  their  success 
was  sufficient  to  dazzle,  though  not  enrich,  the  na 
tion  at  large.  The  half  piratical  expeditions  of 
Drake  and  Raleigh  were  only  the  most  important 
in  a  series  of  such  enterprises.  Englishmen  also 
had  a  large  share  in  the  wealth  and  guilt  of  the 
Buccaneers ;  and  strange  stories  were  current  among 
the  vulgar,  concerning  the  wild  adventures  of  men, 
who  returned  to  their  country  after  a  long  absence, 
and  made  the  most  ostentatious  display  of  their 
riches.  The  ordinary  means  of  gaining  wealth 
appeared  tame  and  insipid,  compared  with  a  daring 
enterprise  for  acquiring  heaps  of  Spanish  gold  by 
the  plunder  of  villages,  or  the  capture  of 

"argosies  with  portly  sail, 
The  signiors  and  rich  burghers  of  the  flood." 

At  a  comparatively  late  period,  the  reputation  of 
persons  even  of  high  rank  was  affected  by  some  of 
these  proceedings.  The  connexion  of  the  Earl  of 


SIR     WILLIAM     PHIPS.  13 

Bellamont,  and  of  Lords  Rumney  and  Somers,  with 
the  voyage  of  the  celebrated  Kidd,  has  never  been 
fully  explained.  For  private  individuals  to  make 
a  mere  commercial  enterprise  of  a  project,  not 
to  commit  piracy,  but  to  bring  pirates  to  justice, 
to  take  shares  in  such  an  attempt,  and  agree  upon 
a  division  of  the  profits,  was,  to  say  the  least,  a 
rather  singular  course.  Indeed,  the  whole  history 
of  this  daring  pirate's  career,  of  the  objects  for 
which  he  was  despatched,  and  of  the  instructions 
which  he  received,  is  enveloped  in  mystery. 

The  success  of  the  Spaniards  at  the  South  ex 
cited  the  most  confident  expectations  among  the 
English  people  of  discovering  mines  of  the  precious 
metals  also  in  the  Northern  part  of  the  American 
continent.  The  mania  of  hunting  for  gold  and  sil 
ver  gave  rise  to  the  scheme  of  the  Virginia  colony  ; 
and  subsequently,  by  diverting  the  attention  of  the 
colonists  from  agriculture  and  the  other  arts,  by 
which  alone  an  infant  settlement  could  be  main 
tained,  the  same  cause  nearly  proved  its  ruin. 
Even  when  repeated  disappointments  had  shown 
the  futility  of  such  expectations,  individuals  were 
found  credulous  enough,  on  the  slightest  encour 
agement,  to  renew  the  search  for  mines  with  the 
same  eagerness,  with  which  the  attempt  had  for 
merly  been  prosecuted  by  the  whole  colony. 

At  the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century,  though 
the  supply  of  precious  metals  from  the  Spanish 


14  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

colonies  had  materially  diminished,  exaggerated 
stories  were  circulated,  especially  among  seafaring 
men,  of  the  immense  wealth  which  was  transport 
ed  in  galleons  from  the  New  to  the  Old  World  ; 
and  an  occasional  account  of  a  wreck  excited  wild 
hopes  of  recovering  the  lost  treasure,  even  from 
the  bottom  of  the  ocean. 

A  report  of  the  wreck  of  a  Spanish  vessel,  some* 
where  about  the  Bahamas,  reached  the  ears  of 
Phips,  and  induced  him  to  make  a  voyage  thith 
er,  in  a  small  vessel,  which  he  owned  and  com 
manded.  He  succeeded  in  finding  the  wreck, 
though  the  value  of  what  was  recovered  from  it, 
proved  insufficient  to  defray  the  expense  of  the 
voyage.  He  was  told,  however,  of  another  and 
more  richly  laden  vessel,  which  had  been  wrecked 
near  Port  de  la  Plata,  more  than  half  a  century 
before. 

Unable  from  his  own  slender  means  to  prose 
cute  the  search,  he  resolved  upon  a  voyage  to  Eng 
land,  in  the  hope  of  inducing  the  government  to 
fit  out  an  expedition  for  the  recovery  of  the  treas 
ure.  He  arrived  in  London  in  the  year  1684, 
where  he  made  such  representations  to  the  Admi 
ralty,  that,  before  the  expiration  of  the  year,  he 
was  appointed  to  the  command  of  the  Rose-Algiei, 
a  ship  of  eighteen  guns  and  ninety-five  men. 

What  circumstances  favored  his  application, 
there  are  no  means  of  ascertaining  He  must  have 


SIR     WILLIAM     PHIPS.  15 

had  the  assistance  of  influential  friends  ;  otherwise, 
it  is  hardly  probable,  that  a  New  England  sea 
captain,  of  little  education  and  no  property,  and 
who  held  no  office  under  the  crown,  could  have 
obtained  the  command  of  a  national  vessel,  for 
such  a  Quixotic  purpose,  as  a  search  after  the 
wreck  of  a  vessel  which  had  been  lost  some  fifty 
years  before.  Nor  is  it  easy  to  perceive  how  he 
found  patrons  in  London,  or  how  his  friends  at 
home  could  assist  him,  since  New-Englaridmen 
could  hardly  have  been  in  favor  at  the  court  of 
James  the  Second.  We  can  account  for  the  ex 
traordinary  success  of  Phips,  only  by  supposing 
that  his  project  was  approved  by  the  King  himself, 
who  was  fond  of  naval  enterprise,  and  who  was 
pleased  with  the  direct  application  of  a  blunt  and 
gallant  sailor.  Subsequent  events  render  it  not 
unlikely,  that  Phips  enjoyed  the  personal  favor  of 
the  monarch. 

The  commission  which  he  received,  must  have 
imposed  upon  him  some  other  duties  than  the 
mere  search  after  ship-wrecked  treasure ;  for  it  was 
unlimited  as  to  time,  and  was  held  by  him  during 
a  two  years'  cruise  in  the  West  Indies,  at  the 
close  of  which  period  circumstances  obliged  him 
to  return. 

Unacquainted  with  the  precise  spot  where  the 
wreck  was  to  be  found,  and  unprovided  with  fit 
implements  to  prosecute  the  search,  success  in  the 


16  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

main  object  of  the  voyage  could  hardly  have  been 
expected.  Great  embarrassments  were  also  expe 
rienced  from  the  mutinous  character  of  the  crew. 
Sailors  had  been  easily  collected  for  a  cruise,  the 
express  object  of  which  was  the  acquirement  of 
Spanish  gold.  But  they  were  a  motley  and  law 
less  set,  unused  to  the  restraints  of  a  ship  of  war, 
and  eager  for  an  opportunity  to  realize  the  hopes, 
which  had  induced  them  to  embark.  Fatigued 
by  severe  duty,  and  weary  of  groping  unsuccess 
fully  for  riches  in  the  depths  of  the  ocean,  they 
at  last  openly  demanded  the  relinquishment  of 
their  original  purpose,  and  the  use  of  the  ship  for 
a  piratical  expedition  against  the  Spanish  vessels 
and  smaller  settlements.  But  the  courage  and 
presence  of  mind  of  their  commander  enabled  him 
to  avoid  the  danger. 

On  one  occasion,  breaking  out  into  open  mutiny, 
the  crew  came  armed  to  the  quarter-deck,  that 
they  might  compel  the  adoption  of  their  measures. 
Though  unarmed  and  taken  by  surprise,  Phips 
contrived  to  secure  two  or  three  of  the  ringleaders, 
and  to  awe  the  rest  into  submission. 

But  a  more  dangerous  and  better  concerted  plot 
was  soon  afterwards  formed.  The  ship  had  been 
brought  to  anchor  at  a  small  and  uninhabited 
island,  for  the  purpose  of  undergoing  some  repairs. 
To  admit  of  careening  the  vessel,  a  great  part  of 
the  stores  were  removed,  and  placed  under  cover 


SIR    WILLIAM    PHIPS.  17 

in  an  encampment  on  the  shore.  The  ship  was 
then  hove  down  by  the  side  of  a  rock  stretching 
out  from  the  land,  to  which  a  small  bridge  was 
constructed,  that  afforded  the  means  of  passing  to 
and  fro. 

Under  the  pretext  of  amusing  themselves,  the 
greater  part  of  the  crew  retired  to  the  woods  at  a 
short  distance  from  the  encampment,  and  there 
entered  into  an  agreement  to  stand  by  each  other 
in  an  attempt  to  seize  the  captain,  and  make  off 
with  the  vessel.  The  plan  was  to  return  about 
seven  o'clock  that  evening,  to  overpower  Phips 
and  the  seven  or  eight  men  who  were  with  him, 
and  leave  them  to  perish  on  the  barren  key,  while 
the  mutineers,  who  were  about  a  hundred  in  num 
ber,  were  to  make  a  piratical  expedition  to  the 
South  Sea.  A  mere  chance  discovered  and  de 
feated  the  conspiracy. 

It  occurred  to  the  party  that,  in  their  contem 
plated  voyage,  they  would  need  the  services  of 
the  carpenter,  who  was  still  on  board  the  vessel. 
Sending  for  him  on  some  pretence,  they  acquainted 
him  with  their  plan,  and  threatened  him  with  in 
stant  death,  if  he  did  not  join  in  its  execution. 
He  prevailed  upon  them,  however,  to  grant  him 
half  an  hour's  delay  to  consider  of  the  matter,  and 
to  permit  him  to  return  to  the  ship  for  the  purpose 
of  procuring  his  tools.  Two  or  three  of  the  sea 
men  attended  him  to  watch  his  motions.  A  few 

VOL.  VII.  2 


18  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

minutes  after  he  came  on  board,  he  pretended  to 
be  suddenly  taken  sick,  and  ran  down,  as  if  for 
some  medicine,  to  the  cabin,  where  he  found  the 
captain,  and  in  a  few  words  informed  him  of  the 
danger.  Phips  immediately  told  him  to  return  to 
the  shore  with  the  others,  to  appear  to  enter  fully 
into  their  plan,  and  leave  the  rest  with  him. 

No  time  was  now  to  be  lost,  for  it  wanted  but 
two  hours  of  the  moment  fixed  for  the  execution 
of  the  conspiracy.  Calling  round  him  the  few  that 
remained  in  the  vessel,  and  finding  them  warm  in 
their  professions  of  fidelity,  he  commenced  his  pre 
parations  for  defeating  the  project  of  the  disaffect 
ed.  A  few  of  the  ship's  guns  had  been  removed 
with  the  stores  to  the  land,  and  planted  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  defend  the  tent.  He  caused  the 
charges  to  be  drawn  from  these,  the  guns  them 
selves  to  be  turned,  and  all  the  ammunition  to  be 
removed  to  the  frigate.  The  bridge  was  then 
taken  up,  and  the  ship's  guns  loaded  and  trained 
so  as  to  command  all  approaches  to  the  encamp 
ment.  The  mutineers  soon  made  their  appear 
ance  from  the  woods,  but  were  hailed  by  Phips. 
who  threatened  to  fire  upon  them  if  they  came 
near  the  stores.  The  bridge  was  then  again  laid, 
and  the  few  faithful  hands  set  about  transporting 
the  articles  from  the  land  to  the  vessel.  The 
others  were  obliged  to  remain  at  a  distance,  being 
told  that  they  were  to  suffer  the  fate  which  they 


SIR    WILLIAM     PHIPS.  19 

had  intended  for  the  captain,  and  be  abandoned  to 
perish  upon  the  island. 

The  prospect  of  such  an  end,  and  the  impossi 
bility  of  making  any  resistance,  soon  brought  the 
crew  to  terms.  They  threw  down  their  arms, 
protested  that  they  had  no  cause  for  disaffection, 
but  the  refusal  of  the  captain  to  accede  to  their 
piratical  scheme ;  this  they  were  now  willing  to 
abandon,  and  begged  for  permission  to  return  to 
their  duty.  This  request  at  length  was  granted, 
though  suitable  precautions  were  taken,  by  depriv 
ing  them  of  their  arms  and  keeping  a  strict  watch 
while  they  remained  in  the  vessel. 

With  such  a  crew,  it  was  dangerous  to  spend 
any  more  time  in  the  prosecution  of  the  original 
design,  and  Phips  accordingly  weighed  anchor  and 
sailed  to  Jamaica.  Here  he  discharged  the  greatei 
part  of  the  men,  and  shipped  a  small  number  of 
such  other  seamen  as  he  found  in  port. 

The  search  had  thus  far  proved  unsuccessful, 
from  his  imperfect  knowledge  of  the  circumstances 
under  which  the  vessel  was  lost.  With  the  view 
of  obtaining  further  information,  he  sailed  for  His- 
paniola,  where  he  met  with  an  old  Spaniard,  who 
pointed  out  to  him  the  precise  reef  of  rocks,  a  few 
leagues  to  the  north  of  Port  de  la  Plata,  where  the 
ship  had  been  wrecked.  Phips  immediately  pro 
ceeded  to  the  spot,  and  examined  it  for  some  time, 
but  still  without  success.  Before  he  could  satisfy 


20  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

himself  that  the  place  was  sufficiently  explored, 
the  condition  of  the  Rose-Algier,  which  was  out 
of  repair  and  not  more  than  half  manned,  obliged 
him  to  relinquish  the  attempt  for  the  time,  and 
return  to  England. 

By  the  Admiralty  he  was  received  with  greater 
favor,  than,  considering  the  ill  success  of  his 
scheme,  he  could  reasonably  have  expected.  The 
energy  which  he  had  displayed,  in  executing  the 
secondary  objects  of  the  voyage,  and  in  defeating 
the  mutinous  designs  of  the  crew,  relieved  him 
from  any  imputation  of  unskilfulness  as  a  naval 
officer,  though  the  government  would  not  again 
intrust  him  with  the  command  of  a  national  ves 
sel.  Undismayed  by  failure,  Phips  renewed  his 
solicitations  for  further  aid,  alleging  the  necessarily 
imperfect  examination  of  the  reef,  on  which  there 
was  every  reason  to  hope  that  the  wreck  might  be 
found.  But  the  experiment  already  made  was 
considered  as  having  demonstrated  the  impractica 
bility  of  the  plan,  and  the  application  was  unsuc 
cessful. 

Finding  there  was  no  hope  of  obtaining  a  ship 
of  war,  he  endeavored  to  interest  private  individ 
uals  in  the  undertaking,  and  at  last  induced  the 
Duke  of  Albemarle,  in  connexion  with  a  few  other 
gentlemen,  to  fit  out  a  vessel  and  to  give  him  the 
command.  A  patent  was  obtained  from  the  King, 
giving  to  the  associates  an  exclusive  right  to  all 


SIR    WILLIAM     PHIPS.  21 

ihe  wrecks  that  might  be  discovered  for  a  number 
of  years  to  come.  A  tender  was  provided  for 
making  short  excursions  in  waters  where  they 
might  not  venture  the  ship;  and,  as  the  former 
failures  were  in  great  part  attributed  to  the  want 
of  proper  means  of  making  submarine  researches, , 
some  time  was  employed  in  constructing  imple 
ments,  which  Phips  contrived  and  partly  executed 
with  his  own  hands.  No  account  is  given  of  these 
contrivances ;  they  consisted  of  nothing  more,  pro 
bably,  than  a  few  rough  drags  and  hooks. 

Having  equipped  his  vessel,  he  sailed  for  Port 
de  la  Plata,  where  he  arrived  without  accident. 
Here  the  first  object  was  to  build  a  stout  boat, 
capable  of  carrying  eight  or  ten  oars,  in  making 
which  Phips  used  the  adze  himself,  in  company 
with  the  crew.  A  number  of  the  men,  with  some 
Indian  divers,  were  then  despatched  in  the  tender, 
while  the  captain  remained  with  the  ship  in  port. 
Having  anchored  the  tender  at  a  convenient  dis 
tance,  the  men  proceeded  in  the  boat  to  examine 
the  rocks,  which  they  were  able  to  do  with  ease, 
from  the  calmness  of  the  sea. 

The  reef  was  of  a  singular  form,  rising  nearly  to 
the  surface,  but  the  sides  fell  off  so  precipitously, 
that  any  ship  striking  upon  them  must,  as  it  seem 
ed,  have  bounded  off  and  sunk  in  deep  water. 
Hoping  to  find  the  wreck  lodged  on  some  project 
ing  shelf,  they  rowed  round  the  reef  several  times, 


22  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

and  sent  down  the  divers  at  different  places.  The 
water  was  clear,  and  the  men  hung  over  the  sides 
of  the  boat,  and  strained  their  eyes  in  gazing  down 
wards  to  discover,  if  possible,  some  fragment  of 
the  ship.  All  was  in  vain,  and  they  prepared  to 
return  to  the  tender.  But  just  as  they  were 
leaving  the  reef,  one  of  the  men,  perceiving  some 
curious  sea-plant  growing  in  a  crevice  of  the  rocks, 
sent  down  one  of  the  Indians  to  obtain  it.  When 
the  diver  returned,  he  told  them  that  he  had  dis 
covered  a  number  of  ship's  guns  lying  in  the  same 
spot.  Other  divers  were  immediately  sent  down, 
and  one  soon  brought  up  a  large  ingot  of  silver, 
worth  from  two  to  three  hundred  pounds  sterling. 
Overjoyed  at  their  success,  they  marked  the  spot 
with  a  buoy,  and  then  returned  with  the  boat  and 
tender  to  the  port. 

Phips  could  not  believe  the  story  of  their  suc 
cess,  till  they  showed  him  the  ingot,  when  he  ex 
claimed,  "  Thanks  be  to  God,  we  are  all  made." 
The  whole  crew  were  immediately  set  to  work, 
and,  in  the  course  of  a  few  days,  they  fished  up 
treasure  to  the  amount  of  three  hundred  thousand 
pounds.  They  had  lighted,  at  first,  on  the  part 
of  the  wreck  where  the  bullion  was  stored,  but 
they  afterwards  found  the  coin,  which  had  been 
placed  in  bags  among  the  ballast.  It  had  remain 
ed  there  so  long,  that  the  bags  were  found  covered 
with  a  calcareous  incrustation  of  considerable  thick 


SIR    WILLIAM     PHIPS.  23 

ness,  which  being  broken  open  with  irons,  the 
pieces  of  eight  showered  out  in  great  profusion. 
Besides  the  gold  and  silver,  precious  stones  were 
found  of  considerable  value. 

In  the  course  of  the  search,  they  were  joined  by 
one  Adderley,  a  ship-master  of  Providence,  who 
had  been  of  some  assistance  to  Phips  in  the  for 
mer  voyage,  and  who  now  met  him  by  appoint 
ment  in  a  small  vessel.  With  his  few  hands,  he 
contrived,  in  a  day  or  two,  to  load  his  vessel  with 
silver  to  the  amount  of  several  thousand  pounds. 
This  success  fairly  upset  the  reason  of  the  poor 
Providence  sea-captain,  and,  a  year  or  two  after 
wards,  he  died  in  a  state  of  insanity  at  Bermuda. 

The  failure  of  provisions  obliged  the  party  to 
think  of  departure,  before  the  examination  of  the 
wreck  was  complete ;  the  last  day  that  the  men 
were  at  work,  they  raised  about  twenty  heavy 
lumps  of  silver.  With  the  view  of  revisiting  the 
spot  and  completing  the  work,  an  oath  of  secrecy 
was  imposed  upon  Adderley  and  his  men,  and  a 
promise  exacted,  that  they  would  content  them 
selves  with  what  they  had  already  acquired.  But 
through  the  imprudence  of  these  persons,  the  secret 
leaked  out,  the  Bermudans  visited  the  wreck,  and 
when  Phips  returned,  after  the  lapse  of  a  year  or 
two,  it  was  found  that  every  article  of  value  had 
been  removed. 

Besides  the  want  of  provisions,  other  considera  • 


24  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPJHY. 

tions  induced  the  captain  to  hasten  his  departure 
The  crew,  though  not  so  mutinously  disposed  as 
those  who  formerly  manned  the  Rose-Algier,  were 
by  no  means  trustworthy;  and  the  knowledge  of 
such  a  vast  treasure,  yet  contained  in  the  ship,  ana 
which  had  been  acquired  by  their  own  exertions, 
was  enough  to  excite  the  cupidity  of  the  men,  and 
to  induce  them  to  attempt  the  seizure  of  the  ves 
sel.  Every  precaution  was  taken,  by  keeping  a 
strict  watch  and  promising  the  men,  that,  in  addi 
tion  to  the  stipulated  wages,  they  should  receive  a 
portion  of  the  profits,  even  if  Phips  should  there 
by  be  obliged  to  sacrifice  his  own  share.  Not 
daring  to  stop  at  any  nearer  port  to  obtain  the 
necessary  supplies,  he  sailed  directly  for  England, 
where  he  arrived  safe  with  his  lading,  in  the  course 
of  the  year  1687. 

After  making  a  division  of  the  profits,  and  pay 
ing  the  promised  gratuity  to  the  seamen,  there 
remained  to  Phips  only  about  sixteen  thousand 
pounds,  though,  as  a  token  of  satisfaction  with  his 
conduct,  the  Duke  of  Albemarle  presented  his  wife 
with  a  gold  cup  of  the  value  of  a  thousand  pounds. 
The  King  was  advised  to  seize  the  whole  cargo, 
instead  of  the  tenth  part,  which  had  been  reserved 
by  the  patent,  on  the  pretence,  that  the  grant  had 
been  obtained  only  by  the  suppression  of  some 
information  possessed  by  the  parties.  But  King 
James  refused  to  take  such  an  ungenerous  course 


SIR     WILLIAM     PHIPS.  25 

He  avowed  his  entire  satisfaction  with  the  conduct 
of  the  enterprise,  and  declared,  that  Phips  had 
displayed  so  much  integrity  and  talent,  that  he 
should  not  henceforth  want  countenance.  In  con 
sideration  of  the  service  done  by  him  in  bringing 
such  a  treasure  into  the  country,  and  as  an  earnest 
of  future  favors,  he  received  the  honor  of  knight 
hood,  and  was  requested  to  remain  in  England, 
with  the  promise  of  honorable  employment  in  the 
public  service. 

But  his  home  was  still  New  England;  and 
though  he  had  never  received  much  encourage 
ment  there,  but,  on  the  contrary,  supposed  he  had 
good  reason  to  complain  of  some  of  his  country 
men,  still,  as  the  colony  was  now  in  a  distressed 
state,  and  he  was  able  to  afford  some  aid,  he  was 
too  patriotic  to  absent  himself  for  ever  from  his 
native  land.  For  the  remainder  of  his  life,  his 
history  is  closely  connected  with  that  of  the  colo- 

D13S. 

VII. — 


26  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY 


CHAPTER  II. 

State  of  Affairs  in  New  England.  —  Phips 
returns  thither  as  High  Sheriff.  —  Goes  to 
England  again.  —  Deposition  of  Andros  at 
Boston.  —  Phips  returns.  —  French  and  In 
dian  War.  —  Successful  Expedition  against 
Acadia.  —  Particulars  respecting  the  Plunder 
taken  at  Port  Royal. 

IN  1687,  the  affairs  of  New  England  were  in  a 
most  perturbed  condition.  The  taking  away  of  the 
charter  of  Massachusetts,  in  the  previous  year,  had 
been  followed  by  the  appointment,  as  governor,  of 
Sir  Edmund  Andros,  a  man  well  qualified,  by  his 
imperious  temper  and  grasping  disposition,  to  exe 
cute  the  arbitrary  designs  of  the  English  court. 
The  loss  of  the  charter  was  held  to  involve  the 
forfeiture  of  the  rights  and  privileges  formerly  en 
joyed  by  the  colonists,  and  to  have  subjected  them 
entirely  to  the  discretionary  government  of  the 
crown. 

No  house  of  assembly  was  in  future  to  be  con 
voked,  and  the  governor,  with  any  four  of  the 
council,  was  empowered  to  make  laws,  and  to 
levy  such  sums  upon  the  people  as  were  sufficient 
to  meet  the  wants  of  the  government,  or  to  satisfy 


SIR    WILLIAM    PHIPS.  27 

the  cupidity  of  himself  and  his  adherents.  It  was 
no  small  aggravation  of  the  loss  of  their  privileges, 
that  Edward  Randolph,  the  old  and  constant 
enemy  of  the  colonists,  whose  repeated  complaints 
had  supplied  a  pretext  for  the  forfeiture  of  the 
charter,  had  been  appointed  one  of  the  governor's 
council ;  and  it  was  understood,  that  Andros  re 
lied  chiefly  upon  his  advice  in  the  management  of 
affairs. 

The  former  magistrates  were  removed  from 
office,  the  freedom  of  the  press  was  abridged  by 
the  appointment  of  a  licenser,  a  tax  of  a  penny 
on  the  pound  was  levied  on  all  estates,  exorbitant 
sums  were  exacted  for  fees;  and,  to  crown  the 
whole,  the  people  were  informed,  that  the  titles 
to  their  estates  were  made  void  by  the  loss  of  the 
charter,  under  which  they  were  granted,  and  could 
only  be  renewed  by  the  payment  of  large  fines. 
Some  discretion  was  used,  it  is  true,  in  the  exer 
cise  of  the  power,  which  this  declaration  threw  into 
the  hands  of  the  council,  since  its  direct  enforce 
ment  could  only  have  ruined  the  colony.  Notices 
were  served  from  time  to  time  upon  the  owners  of 
large  estates,  requiring  them  to  show  cause,  why 
the  titles  to  their  lands  should  not  be  vested  in  thb 
crown  ;  and,  to  avoid  a  trial  before  packed  and  sub 
servient  juries,  the  proprietors  were  glad  to  com 
pound  with  the  payment  of  a  fourth  or  fifth  t>art 
of  the  value  of  their  property. 


28  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

Such  things  were  not  endured  without  murmurs, 
and  an  attempt  at  redress.  The  people  were 
generally  peaceable,  though  a  few  persons  were 
arrested  and  held  to  trial,  on  the  significant  charge 
of  using  disrespectful  and  rebellious  language 
against  his  Majesty's  government.  Representa 
tions  from  private  sources  were  made  in  England ; 
but  they  were  urged  with  little  stress,  from  the 
want  of  an  agent  in  London.  At  last  Increase 
Mather,  then  president  of  Harvard  College,  was 
induced  to  undertake  a  voyage  to  England,  to 
plead  the  cause  of  the  colony  in  person.  The 
governor  and  his  agents  used  all  their  efforts  to 
prevent  the  voyage,  and  a  sham  prosecution  was 
got  up  by  Randolph,  that  Mather  might  be  arrest 
ed  on  the  eve  of  embarking.  But  some  of  his 
parishioners  carried  him  on  board  in  the  night,  and 
in  May,  1688,  he  arrived  in  England,  where  he 
found  a  zealous  cooperator  in  Phips,  who  was  still 
lingering  about  the  court. 

What  little  countenance  Mather  received  from 
James  the  Second,  is  undoubtedly  to  be  ascribed 
to  the  influence  of  Sir  William,  who  now  enjoyed 
considerable  reputation  at  court,  and  some  personal 
favor  with  the  King.  This  assistance  was  not  for 
gotten  at  a  later  period,  when,  from  a  change  in 
their  respective  situations,  Mather  had  an  oppor 
tunity  of  repaying,  with  interest,  the  favors  which 
he  had  received. 


SIR     WILLIAM     PHIPS.  29 

A  petition  was  presented,  praying  "  that  the 
rights,  which  the  people  had  to  their  freeholds, 
might  be  confirmed ;  and  that  no  laws  might  be 
made,  or  moneys  raised,  without  an  assembly." 
This  petition  was  referred  to  the  Committee  on 
Foreign  Plantations ;  but  the  King  absolutely  re 
fused  to  consider  the  article  respecting  the  levying 
of  taxes  by  act  of  assembly,  and  the  committee 
would  not  propose  it.  On  another  occasion,  upon 
an  intimation  that  any  request  from  him  would  be 
favorably  received,  Phips  applied  directly  for  a 
restoration  of  privileges  to  the  colony;  but  the 
King  replied,  "  Any  thing  but  that,  Sir  William." 
Indeed,  the  successful  war,  which  James  had 
waged  with  the  chartered  rights  of  the  English 
corporations,  left  hardly  a  ground  of  hope,  that  he 
would  respect  the  privileges  of  the  colonies,  when 
a  decree  of  the  Court  of  Chancery  had  placed 
them  entirely  in  his  power. 

Unable  to  succeed  in  his  primary  object,  Sir 
William  began  to  think  of  some  other  way,  in 
which  he  might  be  useful  to  his  country.  A  lu 
crative  office  under  the  Commissioners  of  the  Navy 
was  offered  to  him ;  but  his  domestic  and  patriotic 
feelings  still  pointed  homeward,  and  he  determin 
ed,  probably  with  the  advice  of  Mather,  to  apply 
for  the  office  of  sheriff  of  New  England  The 
power,  which  such  an  appointment  would  give  him, 
over  the  selection  of  jurors,  would  enable  him  to 


30  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

aid  such  of  his  countrymen  as  were  obliged  to  de 
fend,  in  a  court  of  law,  the  titles  to  their  estates. 

By  an  application  to  the  King,  backed  by  a 
considerable  expenditure  of  money,  he  succeeded 
in  obtaining  the  office ;  and,  with  his  commission 
in  his  pocket,  he  sailed  in  the  summer  of  1688, 
in  company  with  Sir  John  Narborough,  for  New 
England.  On  his  way  thither,  he  visited  the 
place  where  he  had  discovered  the  wreck ;  but, 
from  reasons  already  mentioned,  found  nothing  to 
repay  the  cost  of  another  search. 

On  his  arrival  at  Boston,  he  soon  ascertained, 
that  his  patent  as  sheriff  would  not  secure  him  the 
possession  of  the  office,  or  enable  him  to  oppose 
effectually  the  measures  of  Andros  and  his  party. 
He  gratified,  however,  his  wife's  ambition  and  his 
own,  by  building  "  the  fair  brick  house  in  Green 
Lane,"  which  he  had  promised  her  five  years  be 
fore,  when  his  only  fortune  consisted  in  a  sanguine 
and  active  temperament  and  an  enterprising  dispo 
sition.  The  name  of  Green  Lane  was  subsequent 
ly  changed,  in  compliment  to  him,  to  Charter 
Street.  The  house  stood  at  the  corner  of  this 
street  and  Salem  Street.  It  was  afterwards  used 
as  the  "  Asylum  for  Boys,"  and  remained  standing 
till  within  a  few  years,  when  it  was  pulled  down 
to  make  room  for  modern  improvements. 

Sir  William's  ignorance  of  the  forms  of  law, 
arising  from  his  imperfect  education,  prevented  his 


SIR    WILLIAM    PHIPS.  31 

prosecuting  successfully  a  claim  to  office,  which,  in 
the  hands  of  another,  might  have  produced  impor 
tant  results.  I  find,  on  some  documents  of  a  later 
period,  his  signature,  made  with  the  awkward 
strokes  and  imperfectly  formed  letters  of  a  child 
just  learning  to  write.  But  his  roving  and  adven 
turous  life  had  given  him  that  knowledge  of  man 
kind,  and  confidence  in  his  own  powers,  which  so 
frequently  supply  the  loss  of  early  opportunities. 
Without  such  qualities,  he  could  hardly  have 
sought  and  obtained,  within  the  compass  of  a  few 
years,  the  captaincy  of  a  man-of-war  and  the  office 
of  high  sheriff,  and  finally  of  governor  of  New 
England. 

Not  only  were  all  his  attempts  to  exercise  the 
office  of  sheriff  frustrated  by  the  artifices  and  de 
lays  of  the  council,  but,  if  we  may  credit  Cotton 
Mather's  account,  an  attempt  was  made  by  some 
creatures  of  the  governor  to  assassinate  him  before 
his  own  door.  But  the  story  is  not  a  probable 
one.  Very  likely  it  arose  from  some  scuffle,  in 
which  the  hasty  disposition  and  sailor-like  habits 
of  Phips  may  have  involved  him.  The  policy  of 
Andros  seems  to  have  been  pacific  enough,  at  leasl 
as  lar  as  actual  outrage  to  the  persons  of  individu 
als  was  concerned ;  and  the  advantage  to  be  gained 
by  removing  a  troublesome  claimant  for  office  was 
hardly  sufficient  to  counterbalance  the  risk.  His 
failure  at  home  induced  Sir  William  to  make  an 


32  AMKRICAN    BIOGRAPHY. 

other  voyage  to  England,  where  he  arrived  at  the 
commencement  of  the  year  1689. 

The  revolution  had  taken  place,  and  he  found 
his  old  patron  in  exile,  and  William  and  Mary  on 
the  throne.  With  the  view,  probably,  of  retaining 
the  same  interest  in  the  American  colonies,  which 
he  yet  possessed  in  Ireland,  the  exiled  monarch, 
through  one  of  his  adherents  in  London,  offered 
Phips  the  government  of  New  England.  But  Sir 
William  showed  both  his  good  sense  and  patriotism 
by  refusing  it.  With  his  knowledge  of  the  dispo 
sition  of  the  colonists,  he  must  have  foreseen  the 
events,  which  actually  occurred  in  Boston  when 
they  heard  of  the  expedition  of  the  Prince  of 
Orange,  and  which  would  have  made  void  his 
commission,  before  he  could  arrive  to  execute  it. 
By  remaining  in  London,  and  uniting  his  efforts  to 
those  of  Mather  and  the  other  agents  for  the  re 
covery  of  the  charter,  he  had  a  fairer  prospect  of 
doing  service  to  the  colony,  and  ultimately  obtain 
ing  some  employment  for  himself. 

News  soon  arrived  from  Massachusetts,  which 
changed  the  grounds  of  application,  and  facilitated 
the  exertions  of  the  agents.  Notwithstanding  the 
efforts  of  Andros  and  his  party,  the  colonists  re 
ceived  early  notice  of  the  change  in  the  English 
government. 

A  copy  of  the  Prince  of  Orange's  declaration 
was  first  obtained  by  way  of  Virginia ;  and,  though 


SIR   WILLIAM     PHIPS.  33 

the  governor  imprisoned  the  man  who  brought  it, 
the  people  were  apprized  of  the  facts,  and  not 
a  little  agitation  ensued.  The  more  considerate 
among  them  were  in  favor  of  postponing  any  ac 
tive  measures,  till  they  could  hear  of  the  settle 
ment  of  affairs  in  the  mother  country.  But  the 
inhabitants  of  Boston  could  not  be  restrained. 
Rumors  were  circulated  of  the  intention  of  the 
governor  to  suppress,  by  violent  means,  any  symp 
toms  of  disturbance,  and  that  the  armament  of  the 
Rose  frigate,  which  was  then  lying  in  the  harbor, 
would  be  used  for  that  purpose.  Nearly  all  busi 
ness  ceased,  the  inhabitants  collected  in  groups, 
and  the  governor,  becoming  alarmed  at  the  threat 
ening  aspect  of  affairs,  sheltered  himself  and  a  few 
of  the  council  within  the  walls  of  the  fort. 

On  the  18th  of  April,  the  explosion  took  place. 
The  drums  beat  and  the  inhabitants  collected  to 
gether,  probably  without  any  concert  among  them 
selves.  Companies  of  soldiers  were  organized, 
the  officers  of  the  frigate,  who  happened  to  be  on 
shore,  were  seized,  and  a  summons  was  sent  to 
Andros,  demanding  the  surrender  of  the  fort. 
Unable  to  offer  any  effectual  resistance,  he  sub 
mitted  ;  and,  before  nightfall,  the  frigate  was  se 
cured,  a  provisional  government  formed,  and  the 
inhabitants,  having  gained  their  object  without 
shedding  a  drop  of  blood,  quietly  dispersed. 
Bradstreet,  the  former  governor  under  the  old 

VOL.  VII.  3 


34  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

charter,  and  the  other  magistrates,  were  soon  per 
suaded  to  return  to  office. 

A  report  of  these  proceedings,  transmitted 
through  the  colony  agents  to  the  King,  was  favor 
ably  received,  and  a  commission  was  issued,  em 
powering  the  government  to  act  under  the  provis 
ions  of  the  old  charter,  till  the  principles,  on  which 
colonial  affairs  were  in  future  to  be  administered, 
could  be  definitively  settled.  Thus,  instead  of 
applying  for  a  redress  of  present  grievances,  the 
agents  had  only  to  solicit  a  confirmation  of  existing 
privileges;  and  this  gave  them  greater  hopes  of 
ultimate  success.  But  the  necessity  of  awaiting 
the  action  of  Parliament,  and  the  delays  which 
were,  intentionally  perhaps,  caused  by  King  Wil 
liam,  proved  wearisome  to  Phips,  who  also  felt 
the  loss  of  that  personal  influence  with  the  king 
which  he  formerly  enjoyed.  The  condition  of  the 
colony,  also,  was  now  such,  that  he  had  a  prospect 
of  active  employment  at  home,  and  he  accordingly 
resolved  on  an  immediate  return. 

He  arrived  in  the  summer  of  1689,  when  an 
Indian  war  was  raging  on  the  frontiers.  It  had 
broken  out  the  previous  year,  and  had  been  aggra 
vated  by  the  inefficient  prosecution  of  it  by  the 
former  government.  Though  entirely  unacquaint 
ed  with  military  affairs,  the  hope  of  being  engaged 
in  the  management  of  this  war  had  induced  Sir 
William  to  return,  and  he  soon  made  an  offer  of 
his  services  to  Governor  Bradstreet. 


SIR    WILLIAM    PHIPS.  35 

In  the  mean  time,  he  contracted  an  mtimac) 
with  Cotton  Mather,  whose  advice  seems  to  have 
had  much  influence  over  him  during  the  remain 
der  of  his  life.  By  attendance  on  the  spiritual 
instructions  of  Mather,  he  was  induced  to  make 
a  public  profession  of  his  religious  faith,  and  on 
the  23d  of  March,  1690,  he  became  a  member 
of  the  North  Church  in  Boston.  Previously, 
however,  he  was  obliged  to  receive  the  rite  of 
baptism  ;  and,  on  occasion  of  this  ceremony  being 
performed,  he  handed  to  the  clergyman  a  paper, 
which  was  afterwards  published.  A  portion  of  it 
is  here  inserted,  not  only  on  account  of  the  con 
firmation  which  it  gives  of  the  history  of  his  early 
life,  but  as  the  only  authentic  production  of  his 
own  pen,  which  I  have  been  able  to  find.  Some 
suspicion  would  rest  upon  the  authenticity  even  of 
this  piece,  did  not  Cotton  Mather  declare,  that  the 
original  was  in  Sir  William's  own  handwriting, 
and  that  he  had  not  altered  a  word  in  copying  it. 

"  The  first  of  God's  making  me  sensible  of  my 
sins  was  in  the  year  1674,  by  hearing  your  fathei 
preach  concerning  'The  day  of  trouble  near'  I 
did  then  begin  to  think  what  I  should  do  to  be 
saved,  and  did  bewail  my  youthful  days,  which  I 
had  spent  in  vain  ;  I  did  think  that  I  would  begin 
to  mind  the  things  of  God.  Being  then  some  time 
under  your  father's  ministry,  much  troubled  with 
my  burden,  but  thinking  on  the  scripture,  '  Come 


36  AMERICAN     filOGRAPHY. 

ur*to  me,  you  that  are  weary  and  heavy  laden,  and 
I  will  give  you  rest,'  I  had  some  thoughts  of  draw 
ing  as  near  to  the  communion  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
as  I  could.  But  the  ruins  which  the  Indian  wars 
brought  on  my  affairs,  and  the  entanglements 
which  my  following  the  sea  laid  upon  me,  hinder 
ed  my  pursuing  the  welfare  of  my  own  soul  as  1 
ought  to  have  done. 

"  At  length,  God  was  pleased  to  smile  upon  my 
outward  concerns.  The  various  providences,  both 
merciful  and  afflictive,  which  attended  me  in  my 
travels,  were  sanctified  unto  me,  to  make  me  ac 
knowledge  God  in  all  my  ways.  I  have  diverse 
times  been  in  danger  of  my  life,  and  I  have  been 
brought  to  see,  that  I  owe  my  life  to  Him  that  has 
given  a  life  so  often  to  me.  I  have  had  great 
offers  made  me  in  England,  but  the  churches  of 
New  England  were  those  which  my  heart  was 
most  set  upon.  I  knew,  that  if  God  had  a  people 
anywhere,  it  was  here  ;  and  I  resolved  to  rise  and 
fall  with  them.  My  being  born  in  a  part  of  the 
country,  where  I  had  not  in  my  infancy  enjoyed 
the  first  sacrament  of  the  New  Testament,  has 
ieen  something  of  a  stumblingblock  unto  me. 
That  I  may  make  sure  of  better  things,  I  now 
ifFer  myself  unto  the  communion  of  this  church 
of  the  Lord  Jesus." 

The  circumstances  in  which  Sir  William  was 
now  placed,  the  possession  of  family  and  friends. 


SIR     WILLIAM     PHIPS.  3"7 

of  considerable  reputation,  and  of  a  competent  for 
tune,  would  have  disposed  most  other  men  to  quiet 
enjoyment  and  a  life  of  ease.  But  he  had  acquir 
ed  his  fortune  by  adventure,  and  he  could  not 
enjoy  it  in  domestic  privacy.  In  conversation  with 
Mather,  he  frequently  expressed  his  feelings  on 
this  point. 

"  I  have  no  need,"  he  would  say,  "  to  look  aftei 
any  further  advantages  for  myself  in  this  world  ;  1 
may  sit  still  at  home,  if  I  will,  and  enjoy  my  ease 
for  the  rest  of  my  life  ;  but  I  believe  that  I  should 
offend  God  in  doing  so  ;  for  I  am  now  in  the  prime 
of  my  age  and  strength,  and,  I  thank  God,  I  can 
endure  hardship.  He  only  knows  how  long  1 
have  to  live  ;  but  I  think  't  is  my  duty  to  venture 
my  life  in  doing  good,  before  a  useless  old  age 
comes  upon  me.  Wherefore  I  will  now  expose 
myself  where  I  am  able,  and  as  far  as  I  am  able, 
for  the  service  of  my  country ;  I  was  born  for 
others,  as  well  as  for  myself." 

There  is  good  sense  and  good  feeling  in  these 
remarks ;  and,  if  they  do  not  prove  that  his  sole 
object  in  his  future  active  life  was  to  benefit  his 
countrymen,  they  show,  at  least,  that  he  was  able 
to  appreciate  honorable  motives,  and  prepared  to 
make  considerable  sacrifices,  when  duty  called 
The  exigencies  of  the  war  soon  opened  a  fair  field 
for  honorable  exertion. 

The  hostilities  with  the  natives,  besides  the  terror 


,33  AMERICAN     BIOGHAPHY. 

excited  by  the  common  barbarities  of  such  a  war, 
had  now  become  more  alarming  from  the  fact,  that 
the  French  cooperated  with  the  Indians,  supplied 
them  with  arms,  and  instigated  them  to  more  ex 
tensive  operations.  The  successful  labors  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  priests  had  given  them  great 
power  over  the  savages,  a  power  which  they  did 
not  hesitate  to  turn  to  political  purposes,  and  which 
frustrated  all  attempts  of  the  English  to  divert  the 
chiefs  from  their  alliance  with  the  French,  and  to 
induce  them  to  form  a  separate  peace. 

The  winter  of  1690  was  signalized  by  the  cap 
ture  of  Schenectady  in  New  York,  and  Salmon 
Falls  in  New  Hampshire,  the  destruction  of  which 
places  was  accompanied  by  circumstances  even  of 
unusual  atrocity  ;  while  the  capture  of  Fort  Pem- 
maquid,  in  Maine,  rendered  the  situation  of  the 
settlements  in  that  quarter  extremely  dangerous. 

Since  the  kind  of  partisan  warfare,  which  had 
heretofore  been  practised  against  the  savages, 
proved  insufficient  against  the  combined  efforts  of 
the  French  and  Indians,  the  colonists  were  induced 
to  attempt  the  capture  of  the  places  whence  the 
enemy  obtained  their  supplies.  Port  Royal,  the 
capital  of  the  French  province  of  Acadia,  Was 
conveniently  situated  for  carrying  on  intercourse 
with  the  Eastern  Indians,  and  for  affording  a  shel 
ter  to  the  privateers,  which  annoyed  the  English 
shipping,  and,  occasionally,  the  smaller  settlements 
on  the  coast. 


SIR     WILLIAM     PHIPS.  39 

The  province  had  been  in  possession  of  the 
French  more  than  thirty  years  ;  a  small  fort  had 
been  erected  for  the  security  of  Port  Royal ;  and 
from  the  advantageous  situation  of  the  place  for 
carrying  on  a  trade  in  lumber  and  fish,  the  popula 
tion  of  that  and  the  other  settlements  had  increas 
ed  to  six  or  seven  thousand.  But  so  little  appre 
hension  was  felt  of  the  ability  of  the  English  tc 
conduct  against  it  an  enterprise  by  sea,  that  a  force 
only  of  sixty  men  was  maintained  in  the  fort. 

In  fact,  the  resources  of  the  English  had  been 
so  much  exhausted  in  the  unsuccessful  prosecu 
tion  of  the  war  by  Andros,  that  it  was  deemed  im 
practicable  to  make  any  attempt  upon  the  place  at 
the  public  charge.  It  was  thought,  however,  that 
the  prospect  of  obtaining  considerable  plunder, 
and  the  advantages  that  would  accrue  from  an 
exclusive  privilege  of  trading  from  the  place  after 
it  was  captured,  would  induce  private  individuals  to 
undertake  the  enterprise  ;  and  as  early  as  the  4th 
of  January,  1690,  the  following  order  was  passed 
by  the  General  Court.  "For  the  encouragement 
of  such  gentlemen  and  merchants  of  this  colony  as 
shall  undertake  to  reduce  Penobscot,  St.  John's, 
and  Port  Royal,  it  is  ordered,  that  they  shall  have 
two  sloops  of  war  for  three  or  four  months  at  free 
cost,  and  all  the  profits  which  they  can  make  from 
our  French  enemies,  and  the  trade  of  the  places 
which  they  may  take,  till  there  be  other  orders 


40  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

given  from  their  Majesties."  This  was  an  exten 
sion  of  the  privateering  system  to  the  land  service, 
which  it  would  be  hard  to  reconcile  with  the  prin 
ciples  of  nice  morality.  But  the  exigencies  of  the 
case,  and  the  peculiar  nature  of  a  French  and  In 
dian  war  required,  if  they  did  not  justify,  such  a 
course. 

This  offer  engaged  the  attention  of  Sir  William 
Phips,  and  finally  induced  him  to  embark  in  the 
enterprise  himself,  and  to  use  all  his  exertions  to 
persuade  others  to  follow  his  example.  In  this 
he  was  unsuccessful.  Such  a  commercial  specula 
tion  was  of  too  novel  and  daring  a  character,  to 
suit  merchants  less  fond  of  adventure  than  himself. 
But  the  annoyance  caused  by  the  enemy,  soon 
proved  so  serious,  that  it  was  resolved  to  make 
the  attempt  "at  the  public  charge  and  with  ail 
speed."  A  committee  was  raised,  and  every 
means  used  to  induce  troops  to  volunteer  for  the 
service  ;  but  with  no  great  success. 

On  the  22d  of  March,  the  General  Court  resolv 
ed  that,"  if,  upon  the  encouragement  given,  men  do 
not  offer  themselves  voluntarily  for  the  expedition 
against  Nova  Scotia  and  L'Acadie,  the  committee 
be  empowered  to  impress  men,  as  many  as  may  be 
necessary,  not  exceeding  five  hundred.  And,  the 
Honorable  Sir  William  Phips  having  offered  him 
self  to  that  service,  he  is  desired  to  take  the  chief 
Command  of  all  the  forces  that  shall  be  raised  foi 


SIR    WILLIAM    PHIPS.  41 

that  expedition,  and  of  the  shipping  and  seamen 
employed  therein."  Authority  was  also  given  to 
impress  merchant  vessels  for  the  transportation  of 
the  troops,  and  a  sufficient  number  of  seamen. 
By  these  means,  a  small  fleet  was  prepared  at 
Nantasket,  of  seven  or  eight  vessels,  having  on 
board  about  seven  hundred  men. 

Sir  William's  instructions  were  made  out,  signed 
by  Governor  Bradstreet,  and  delivered  to  him  on 
the  18th  of  April.  He  was  ordered  "  to  take  care 
that  the  worship  of  God  be  maintained  and  duly 
observed  on  board  all  the  vessels  ;  to  offer  the 
enemy  fair  terms  upon  summons,  which  if  they 
obey,  the  said  terms  are  to  be  duly  observed ;  if 
not,  you  are  to  gain  the  best  advantage  you  may, 
to  assault,  kill,  and  utterly  extirpate  the  common 
enemy,  and  to  burn  and  demolish  their  fortifications 
and  shipping ;  having  reduced  that  place,  to  pro 
ceed  along  the  coast,  for  the  reducing  of  the  other 
places  and  plantations  in  the  possession  of  the 
French  into  the  obedience  of  the  crown  of  England ; 
to  consult  and  advise  with  Captain  William  John 
son,  Mr.  Joshua  Moody,  Captain  John  Alden,  and 
the  other  captains  of  the  several  companies,  who 
are  hereby  constituted  and  appointed  to  be  of 
your  council." 

Furnished  with  these  instructions,  Phips  sailed 
from  Nantasket  on  the  28th  of  April,  and  arrived 
at  Port  Royal  on  the  llth  of  May.  The  French 

VII. D 


42  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

governor,  M.  de  Meneval,  was  taken  completely 
by  surprise,  and  the  condition  of  the  town,  which 
was  situated  upon  the  water's  edge,  exposed  to 
the  fire  of  the  ships,  and  fortified  only  by  a  single 
palisade,  together  with  the  smallness  of  the  garri 
son,  precluded  the  idoa  of  offering  any  effectual 
resistance.  But  the  place  held  out  till  the  troops 
landed,  and  an  assault  took  place,  when  the  gov 
ernor  agreed  to  surrender,  on  condition,  as  he 
afterwards  asserted,  that  private  property  should 
be  respected,  and  that  the  prisoners  should  be 
transported  to  some  French  port.  If  such  prom 
ises  were  given,  in  one  important  particular  they 
were  certainly  disregarded. 

Sir  William  took  possession  in  the  name  of  the 
English  government,  demolished  the  fort,  and  ad 
ministered  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  those  of  the 
French  inhabitants,  who  chose  to  remain.  He  then 
appointed  a  governor  of  the  town  with  a  small 
garrison,  and  set  sail  on  his  return,  carrying  with 
him  all  the  public  property  that  could  be  found, 
and  a  considerable  quantity  of  private  effects.  On 
his  way  home,  he  landed  at  the  various  settle 
ments,  and  took  formal  possession  of  the  sea- 
coast  from  Port  Royal  to  Penobscot.  The  whole 
province  of  Acadia  was  thus  subdued,  and  remain 
ed  in  possession  of  the  English  till  the  peace  of 
Ryswick,  in  1697,  when  it  was  restored  to  the 
French. 


SIR    WILLIAM    PHIPS.  43 

During  the  absence  of  Phips,  the  Indians  and 
Canadians  had  carried  on  the  war  with  much 
success  in  Maine.  In  the  early  part  of  May,  the 
fort  at  Casco  was  surprised,  and  more  than  a  hun 
dred  men  taken  prisoners.  This  was  the  Jtrong- 
est  post  in  that  quarter,  and  its  loss  compelled  the 
weaker  garrisons  along  the  coast  to  fall  back  upon 
Saco,  and  ultimately  upon  Wells,  leaving  the 
whole  Eastern  country,  either  in  actual  possession 
of  the  enemy,  or  entirely  defenceless.  When  the 
news  of  these  events  arrived  at  Boston,  much 
alarm  was  excited.  A  small  vessel  was  hastily 
prepared,  and  despatched  with  a  letter  from  Gov 
ernor  Bradstreet  to  Sir  William,  ordering  him  to 
make  a  descent  on  Casco,  annoy  the  enemy,  and 
endeavour  to  rescue  the  captives. 

The  vessel,  which  carried  this  letter,  unfortu 
nately  missed  the  fleet  from  Port  Royal,  which 
arrived  at  Boston  on  the  30th  of  May,  when  it 
was  too  late  to  make  any  attempt  upon  Casco. 
On  his  arrival,  Sir  William  took  his  seat  at  the 
Board  of  Assistants,  to  which  he  had  been  elect 
ed  two  days  before. 

Immediately  after  the  return  of  the  shipping,  an 
order  was  passed,  appointing  a  committee  to  take 
charge  of  the  property  brought  from  Port  Royal, 
to  sell  the  same,  and,  from  the  proceeds,  to  defray 
the  expenses  of  the  expedition ;  should  there  be 
any  surplus,  to  divide  the  same  into  two  equal 


44  AMERICAN     BiOGKAPHY. 

parts,  —  one  moiety  to  be  reserved  for  the  use  of 
the  colony,  and  the  other  to  be  applied  to  the 
benefit  of  the  officers  and  soldiers,  who  had  been 
engaged  in  the  service. 

The  invoice,  which  was  taken  of  the  plunder,  is 
still  preserved  among  the  papers  in  the  office  of 
the  Secretary  of  State  in  Massachusetts,  and  a 
curious  document  it  is.  Many  of  the  articles  enu 
merated  were  undoubtedly  public  property,  and, 
as  such,  subject  to  the  chances  of  war.  Others 
were  evidently  taken  from  private  houses,  and  by 
the  modern  rules  of  warfare,  whether  the  town 
surrendered  on  capitulation  or  not,  ought  to  have 
remained  untouched. 

Among  the  articles  enumerated,  were  seven  hun 
dred  and  forty  pounds  in  gold  and  silver ;  twen 
ty-one  pieces  of  artillery,  mostly  four-pounders; 
fifty  casks  of  brandy,  twelve  of  claret  wine ;  and 
a  large  quantity  of  flour.  The  miscellaneous 
articles  were  hastily  packed  in  hogsheads  ;  and 
the  exact  inventory,  which  was  made  of  the  con 
tents  of  each  cask,  is  equally  amusing  from  the 
nature  of  the  articles,  and  from  the  entire  want  of 
assortment  in  the  packing.  A  brief  specimen  will 
suffice.  "  Twenty-four  girdles  ;  two  caps ;  on£ 
hood ;  twenty-four  canonical  gowns ;  four  more 
gowns  with  silver  clasps  and  laced  ;  beds  and  bed 
ding  ;  one  white  coat ;  two  pair  of  shoes ;  one  red 
waistcoat;  fourteen  ol'd  kettles,  pots,  and  stew- 


SIR    WILLIAM     PHIPS.  45 

pans."     The  doughty  band  seem  to  have  plunder 
ed  even  the  kitchens. 

The  total  proceeds  were  probably  sufficient  to 
pay  all  the  cost  of  the  armament,  and  to  leave  a 
considerable  surplus. 

Some  unsuccessful  attempts  were  made  to  re 
cover  a  portion  of  the  property  thus  unjustly  ap 
propriated.  After  De  Meneval  had  remained  a 
prisoner  of  war  in  Boston  nearly  seven  months, 
the  following  paper  was  transmitted  by  him  to  the 
Council. 

"  Seeing  that  Mr.  Phips,  and  Madam  his  wife, 
have  circulated  a  report,  that  every  thing  that  was 
taken  from  me  at  Port  Royal  has  been  restored 
to  me,  I  have  thought  it  necessary  to  show  the 
contrary  to  the  Governor  and  the  Gentlemen  of 
his  Council,  that  they  may  have  the  goodness  to 
have  justice  done  me,  as  regards  my  fair  rights, 
such  as  I  demand  them,  according  to  the  present 
memoir ;  upon  which,  I  pray  them  to  let  me  be 
heard  before  them,  by  the  means  of  a  good  and 
faithful  interpreter ;  offering  to  prove  by  his  writ- 
.ng,  and  by  good  English  witnesses,  that  he  made 
a  capitulation  with  me,  which  it  is  just  should  be 
observed ;  in  default  of  which,  I  protest  for  all 
damages  and  interest  against  him,  who  has  done, 
or  caused  to  be  done,  all  the  wrongs  mentioned 
here  below,  which  he  is  obliged  to  repair  in 
strict  justice,  and  according  to  the  rules  of  war 
and  reason." 


46  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

A  list  is  then  given  of  articles  taken  from  De 
Meneval  himself,  the  most  important  item  of  which 
is  the  following ;  "  four  hundred  and  four  pisto  es. 
the  balance  of  five  hundred  and  four,  which  I  con 
fidently  put  into  his  hands."  Fifty  other  articles 
are  enumerated,  mostly  of  silver  plate,  furniture, 
and  wealing  apparel.  The  paper  goes  on  to  say  : 

"  Further,  he  ought  to  render  an  account  of  the 
silver,  effects,  and  merchandise,  in  the  warehouse 
of  Mr.  Perrot,  who,  as  a  citizen,  could  not  be  pil 
laged  according  to  the  capitulation  ;  of  the  effects, 
money,  and  cattle  of  the  inhabitants,  who  have 
been  pillaged  contrary  to  the  promise  given ;  of 
the  money  and  effects  of  the  soldiers,  that  have 
been  taken  from  them  ;  of  the  sacred  vessels  and 
ornaments  of  the  church,  and  every  thing  that  has 
been  broken,  and  the  money  and  effects  of  the 
priests. 

"  All  which  things  I  demand  should  be  restored 
in  virtue  of  my  capitulation.  Also,  as  is  just,  that 
their  arms  and  liberty  should  be  given  to  the  sol 
diers  of  my  garrison,  and  their  passage  to  Quebec 
or  France,  as  he  promised  me." 

The  request  contained  in  the  above  paper  seems 
reasonable  enough,  yet  it  was  but  partially  granted. 
I  cannot  find  from  the  records  of  the  Council,  that 
De  Meneval  was  admitted  to  the  hearing  which  he 
claimed,  or  even  allowed  to  adduce  evidence  of 
what  was  the  most  important  fact,  namely,  that 


SIR    WILLIAM     PHIPS.  47 

the  articles  of  capitulation  guarantied  the  safety 
of  private  property.  The  only  notice  which  the 
Council  took  of  the  paper,  was  to  order  the  resto 
ration  of  his  chest  and  clothes,  which  still  remain 
ed  in  the  custody  of  Sir  William.  Some  delay 
took  place  in  the  execution  even  of  this  resolve, 
as  appears  by  a  note  from  Governor  Bradstreet  to 
Phips,  dated  January  7th,  1691 ;  in  which  he  was 
reminded,  that  the  order  for  delivery  had  been  no 
tified  to  him,  yet  the  Frenchman  had  only  the  day 
before  complained,  that  he  had  not  received  the 
clothes,  of  which  he  was  in  great  want.  The 
note  contained  a  positive  injunction,  that  thfi  arti 
cles  should  be  immediately  given  to  their  fcAner 
owner. 

The  force  sent  against  Port  Royal  was  certain 
ly  sufficient  to  compel  the  garrison  to  surrender 
unconditionally.  Had  it  done  so,  it  might  be  unrea 
sonable  to  censure,  in  strong  terms,  the  seizure  of 
private  property.  The  French  had  universally 
adopted  the  practices  of  their  Indian  allies ;  and 
any  severity  at  Acadia,  short  of  actual  massacre, 
would  have  been  no  more  than  fair  retaliation  for 
the  cruelties  suffered  the  preceding  winter,  by 
the  defenceless  people  of  Schenectady  and  other 
towns.  Unluckily,  it  appears,  that  articles  of 
capitulation  were  granted  at  the  taking  of  Port 
Royal ;  and,  consequently,  that  taking  plunder 
from  private  persons  was  a  shameful  breach  of  the 
public  faith. 


48  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

Phips  had  received  no  military  education,  and 
seems  to  have  had  little  idea  of  military  honor.  It 
is  but  fair  to  add,  however,  that  the  responsibility 
of  the  affair  rests  no  more  upon  him,  than  upon 
the  Governor  and  Council  of  the  colony.  The 
property  was  taken  in  their  name,  delivered  to 
them,  and  by  them  retained  to  defray  the  cost  of 
the  expedition,  though  repeatedly  demanded  back 
by  the  French.  The  poverty  of  the  colony  at 
that  time  accounts  for,  though  it  does  not  justify 
such  a  proceeding. 

There  was  little  reason  for  the  other  complaints, 
respecting  the  unjust  detention  of  the  prisoners. 
The  Council  were  anxious,  in  this  respect,  to  re 
deem  the  pledges  which  had  been  given.  Shortly 
after  the  return  of  the  fleet,  the  following  order 
was  passed :  "  Whereas,  the  French  soldiers, 
lately  brought  to  this  place  from  Port  Royal,  did 
surrender  on  capitulation,  liberty  is  granted  them 
to  dispose  themselves  in  such  families  as  shall  be 
willing  to  receive  them,  until  there  be  opportunity 
to  transport  themselves  to  some  of  the  French 
king's  dominions  in  Europe."  This  order  is  dated 
June  14th,  1690,  and  we  hear  nothing  more  of 
the  matter  till  October  18th,  1691.  At  this  time, 
the  Chevalier  de  Villebon,  on  occasion  of  restoring 
some  English  prisoners,  complained  that  "  Sir 
William  Phips,  against  the  rights  of  war,  had  car 
ried  away  prisoners,  M.  de  Meneval  and  fifty-nine 


SIK     WILLIAM     PHlPb.  49 

soldiers,  after  having  given  them  his  word  to  send 
them  into  some  port  of  France ; "  and  required, 
that  the  said  men  should  be  now  returned. 

This  letter  was  not  answered  till  the  March 
following.  It  was  then  admitted,  that  such  pro 
mise  had  been  given ;  "  but  the  men  themselves 
voluntarily  waved  the  performance  of  it,  and  of 
their  own  choice  and  desire  were  brought  hither; 
where  they  have  not  been  held  prisoners,  but  left 
at  their  own  liberty,  to  dispose  of  and  transport 
themselves  to  France,  or  to  the  French  plantations 
in  the  West  Indies.  Many  have  embraced  the 
same,  and  are  gone.  The  others  we  will  now 
send.'' 


VOL.    VII. E         4 


50  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Naval  Expedition  under  Phips  against  Quebec. 
—  Its  Failure.  —  Disasters  to  a  Part  of  the 
Fleet  on  its  Return. 

THE  complete  success  of  the  first  considerable 
attempt  against  the  French,  encouraged  the  colo 
nists  to  prosecute  the  design,  which  had  been  pre 
viously  entertained,  of  an  expedition  against  Lower 
Canada.  The  annoyance  which  they  continued 
to  experience  from  the  Indians  and  their  allies, 
proved  that  nothing  could  secure  them  entirely, 
but  the  capture  of  this  last  strong-hold  of  the  ene 
my.  The  want  of  pecuniary  means  had  hitherto 
proved  an  insurmountable  obstacle,  but  the  reduc 
tion  of  Acadia  had  shown  that  a  war  might  be 
made  to  support  itself.  A  number  of  men  could 
be  easily  levied,  and  the  want  of  arms  and  ammu 
nition  could  be  supplied  by  an  application  to  the 
government  of  the  mother  country. 

Could  some  "English  frigates  also  be  obtained, 
to  attack  Quebec  and  Montreal  by  water,  while 
the  colonists  should  undertake  an  expedition  over 
land,  success  seemed  highly  probable.  Count 
Frontenac,  it  was  true,  still  commanded  at  Que- 


SIR     WILLIAM     PHJPS.  51 

bee ;  and,  though  advanced  in  years,  proofs  had 
been  received  of  his  enterprising  disposition  and 
military  talent.  But  the  number  of  French,  capa 
ble  of  bearing  arms,  was  known  to  be  relatively 
small ;  and,  in  the  defence  of  a  fortified  town,  little 
use  could  be  made  of  their  Indian  allies.  De 
spatch  was  all-important,  both  to  prevent  the 
French  taking  the  alarm  from  the  capture  of  Port 
Royal,  and  to  protect  the  frontier  settlements. 

The  first  hint  of  the  design  is  contained  in  a 
letter,  dated  April  1st,  1690,  from  Deputy-Gover 
nor  Danforth  to  Sir  H.  Ashurst,  the  agent  of  the 
colonies  in  England,  requesting  him  to  obtain  an 
immediate  supply  of  powder  and  muskets.  On 
the  28th  of  May,  two  days  before  the  return  of 
Phips,  a  bill  for  "  the  encouragement  of  volun 
teers  for  the  expedition  against  Canada,"  passed 
the  House  of  Deputies  in  Massachusetts.  It  ap 
pointed  Sir  William  Phips  commander-in-chief, 
and  Major  John  Walley,  his  second  in  command. 
To  induce  men  to  enlist,  it  was  ordered,  that,  in 
addition  to  the  stated  pay,  "one  just  half  part  of 
all  plunder,  taken  from  the  enemy,  should  be 
shared  among  the  officers,  soldiers,  and  seamen, 
stores  of  war  excepted." 

On  the  6th  of  June,  a  loan  of  several  thousand 
pounds  was  authorized ;  and,  to  encourage  per 
sons  to  subscribe  to  this  loan,  the  House  voted, 
that,  "  besides  the  repayment  of  their  money,  after 


52  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

all  charges  of  the  expedition  were  defrayed,  and 
the  proportion  of  plunder  assigned  to  officers, 
seamen,  and  soldiers,  the  remainder  should  be 
equally  divided  between  the  country  and  the  sub 
scribers."  The  next  day  after  the  passage  of  this 
order,  Sir  William  Phips,  Major  Elisha  Hutchin- 
son,  and  seven  others,  were  "  appointed  a  com 
mittee  to  manage  and  carry  on  the  expedition 
against  Quebec,  and  to  impress  ships  and  stores.'' 

The  resolutions  given  above  are  curious,  as 
evincing  the  entire  destitution  of  means,  under 
which  the  inhabitants  of  Massachusetts,  without 
any  promise,  hardly  a  reasonable  hope,  of  obtain 
ing  assistance  from  England,  resolved  upon  so 
important  an  expedition  as  that  against  Quebec. 
The  colony  was  already  in  debt,  and  the  taxes 
were  as  high  as  the  people  could  bear.  But 
Acadia  had  been  acquired  without  expense  to  the 
country,  and  they  trusted  that  Canada  might  be 
gained  in  the  same  way. 

The  prospect  of  plunder  was  an  inexhaustible 
bank,  and  they  drew  upon  it  without  hesitation  or 
reserve.  Exaggerated  reports  were  spread  of  the 
wealth  obtained  by  those  who  shared  in  the  for 
mer  expedition,  and  the  expectation  of  serving 
under  so  successful  a  commander  soon  filled  the 
ranks  with  volunteers.  The  government  had  not 
ships  enough,  and  the  merchants  were  unwilling 
to  trust  their  property  on  so  hazardous  a  venture ; 


SIR     WILLIAM     P  H  I  P  S  .  53 

but  they  were  compelled  to  do  so,  by  the  ordei 
for  impressment.  By  the  middle  of  July,  a  fleet  of 
thirty-two  vessels,  having  on  board  about  twenty- 
two  hundred  men,  was  ready  for  departure. 

Some  delay  intervened  from  the  want  of  pilots, 
and  the  expectation  of  receiving  from  England  a 
further  supply  of  ammunition  and  arm?  The 
English  seamen  were  not  acquainted  with  the  navi 
gation  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  Capt.  Alden,  in 
the  sloop  Mary,  had  been  despatched,  on  the  26th 
of  June,  to  Port  Royal,  in  the  hope  of  finding 
there  some  seamen  who  had  traded  to  Quebec, 
and  would  be  qualified  to  act  as  pilots.  He  was 
unsuccessful,  however ;  and,  after  waiting  nearly 
a  month  for  the  expected  supplies  from  England, 
the  lateness  of  the  season  obliged  the  fleet  to  sail, 
relying  on  chance  for  their  guidance  up  the  river, 
and  but  scantily  furnished  with  the  munitions  of 
war. 

An  arrangement  had  been  made  with  the  gov 
ernors  of  New  York  and  Connecticut,  by  which  a 
land  expedition  from  these  colonies  was  to  march 
in  such  season,  as  to  appear  before  Montreal  at 
the  same  time  that  the  fleet  under  Phlps  threat 
ened  Quebec.  Could  this  plan  have  been  exe 
cuted,  it  would  have  caused  a  division  of  the 
enemy's  forces,  and  well  nigh  have  ensured  suc 
cess. 

Leisler,  the  acting  governor  of  New  York,  en- 


54  AMERICAN    BIOGRAPHY. 

tered  zealously  into  the  scheme.  A  force  of  a 
thousand  men  was  raised,  and  the  cooperation  of 
fifteen  hundred  Indians  of  the  Five  Nations  had 
been  promised.  But  various  difficulties  interpos 
ed.  Disputes  arose  between  the  commanders  of 
the  New  York  and  Connecticut  forces,  which  re 
tarded  the  setting  out  of  the  troops.  When  they 
at  last  reached  the  borders  of  the  Lake,  it  was 
found  that  the  arrangements  for  providing  boats 
had  failed,  and  there  were  no  means  of  transporta 
tion. 

The  emissaries  of  the  French,  also,  were  busy 
among  the  Indians,  who  began  to  desert  in  such 
numbers,  that  it  was  evident  that  the  whites  would 
soon  be  left  alone.  Under  such  circumstances,  the 
commanders  concluded  to  abandon  the  attempt, 
ind  the  troops  returned. 

Sir  William's  fleet  left  Nantasket  on  the  9th  of 
August.  It  was  divided  into  three  squadrons,  the 
largest  of  which,  consisting  of  thirteen  sail,  was 
commanded  by  Capt.  Sugars  in  the  Six  Friends, 
a  ship  of  forty-four  guns  and  two  hundred  men. 
It  was  not  a  government  vessel,  but  belonged  to 
some  merchants  of  Barbadoes.  The  two  other 
divisions,  of  nine  sail  each,  were  commanded  by 
Captains  Gilbert  and  Eldridge,  in  the  Swan  and 
the  America  Merchant.  A  few  small  prizes  were 
taken  by  the  way,  and  a  foolish  parade  was  made 
yf  landing  occasionally,  and  setting  up  the  English 


SIR     WILLIAM     PHIPS.  55 

flag,  on  a  barren  and  uninhabited  coast.  The  end 
of  the  month  arrived  before  they  reached  the 
mouth  of  the  St.  Lawrence. 

Ignorant  of  the  channel,  they  were  compelled 
to  proceed  with  great  caution,  while  adverse  winds 
still  farther  delayed  their  progress.  The  small 
pox,  which  prevailed  in  Boston  at  the  time  of  their 
departure,  had  got  into  the  fleet,  and,  together 
with  fevers,  was  making  considerable  ravages 
among  the  troops.  Some  unnecessary  delay  was 
created  by  the  vessels  anchoring,  that  the  officers 
might  hold  a  council  of  war,  to  fix  regulations  for 
the  conduct  of  the  troops,  and  to  settle  the  plan 
of  attack ;  points  which  ought  previously  to  have 
been  determined,  or  have  been  left  to  the  discre 
tion  of  the  commander-in-chief.  They  attempted 
to  do  this  at  the  Isle  of  Percy;  but  a  storm  came 
on,  the  fleet  was  thrown  into  great  confusion,  and 
they  were  obliged  to  relinquish  their  purpose. 

On  the  23d  of  September,  they  came  to  anchor 
at  Tadousack,  where  proper  orders  were  drawn 
up  and  read  in  every  vessel.  On  the  27th,  they 
were  within  twenty-five  leagues  of  the  point  of 
destination ;  yet,  to  pass  this  short  distance  occu 
pied  them  till  the  5th  of  October,  when  they  ap 
peared  before  Quebec. 

From  the  state  of  the  enemy's  preparations, 
these  several  delays  were  peculiarly  important, 
and  probably  saved  the  city.  At  the  end  of  Sep- 


56  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

tember,  Frontenac  was  still  at  Montreal,  actively 
employed  in  strengthening  that  place  against  the 
expected  attack  from  the  New  York  and  Connect 
icut  forces.  He  heard  of  the  failure  and  return  of 
these  troops,  and  of  the  appearance  of  the  fleet 
under  Phips  in  the  river,  at  the  same  time. 
Leaving  M.  de  Callieres  to  bring  down  as  many 
of  the  inhabitants  as  possible,  he  hastily  embarked 
what  troops  he  had  in  boats,  and  rowed  night  and 
day  to  get  to  Quebec  before  the  English.  In 
three  days  he  arrived,  and  immediately  ordered 
the  weakest  points  to  be  fortified,  and  batteries  to 
be  raised,  though  there  were  but  twelve  pieces  of 
artillery  in  the  place,  and  but  little  ammunition. 

While  'they  were  at  work  on  the  fortifications, 
regular  troops,  militia,  and  confederate  savages 
were  continually  coming  in,  till  the  garrison  swell 
ed  to  a  number  equal,  if  not  superior,  to  the 
English  force.  La  Hontan,  a  French  writer,  who 
was  on  the  spot,  asserts,  that  had  Sir  William 
effected  a  landing  before  the  arrival  of  Frontenac, 
or  even  two  days  afterwards,  he  might  have  taken 
the  city  without  striking  a  blow.  There  were 
then  but  two  hundred  regular  troops  in  the  place, 
which  was  open  and  exposed  in  every  direction.* 

*  Voyages  du  Baron  de  la  Hontan  dans  1'Amerique 
Septentrionale.  Amsterdam,  1705.  Vol.  I.  p.  298. 

Hontan  was  born  in  Gascony,  in  1666,  and  served 
in  Canada,  first  as  a  soldier  then  as  an  officer.  From 


SIR     WILLIAM     PHIPS.  57 

Instead  of  making  an  immediate  attack,  nothing 
was  done  on  the  day  of  arrival,  probably  because 
it  was  Sunday.  On  the  6th,  a  major  in  the  army 
was  despatched  to  the  shore,  with  a  summons  to 
the  governor  to  surrender. 

The  messenger  was  introduced  blindfold  into 
the  prf  sence  of  the  governor,  who  was  surrounded 
by  his  officers.  When  the  letter  had  been  read, 
Frontenac  was  so  much  irritated  at  what  he  term 
ed  its  insolence,  and  so  confident  of  his  own  power 
of  resistance,  that,  as  Hontan  asserts,  he  threatened 
the  life  of  the  officer  who  brought  the  summons. 
He  could  not  have  been  serious  in  such  a  threat ; 
at  any  rate,  the  interference  of  the  bishop  and 
others  prevented  its  execution.  Frontenac  then 
flung  the  letter  in  the  messenger's  face,  and  gave 
his  answer,  "  That  Sir  William  Phips  and  those 
with  him  were  heretics  and  traitors,  and  had  taken 
up  with  that  usurper,  the  Prince  of  Orange,  and 
had  made  a  revolution;  which  if  it  had  not  been 

Canada  he  was  sent  to  Newfoundland  as  king's  lieuten 
ant,  where  he  quarrelled  with  the  governor  and  was 
cashiered.  He  retired  to  Portugal,  and  afterwards  lived 
for  some  time  at  Amsterdam  and  at  Copenhagen. 

The  edition  referred  to  is  not  the  earliest,  since  a 
translation  of  the  work  appeared  at  London  in  1703 
Two  other  editions  of  the  original  were  printed  in  Hoi 
land  before  the  year  3710.  An  abridgment  may  be 
found  in  Harris's  "  Collection  of  Voyages  and  Travels," 
in  two  volumes,  folio. 


58  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

made,  New  England  and  the  French  had  all  been 
one ;  and  that  no  other  answer  was  to  be  expected 
from  him,  but  what  should  be  from  the  mouth  of 
his  cannon." 

When  the  officer  returned,  it  was  found  that  the 
state  of  the  tide  did  not  permit  a  landing  that  day, 
and  a  council  was  accordingly  held,  and  arrange 
ments  were  made  to  disembark  the  troops  on  the 
morrow.  The  soldiers  were  to  be  put  ashore  on  a 
beach,  about  three  miles  below  Quebec,  and  would 
be  obliged  to  cross  a  small  river,  before  they  could 
reach  the  town.  After  they  had  landed,  the 
troops  were  to  advance  as  far  as  possible,  and  en 
camp  for  the  night.  When  the  night  tide  served, 
the  smaller  vessels  were  to  land  a  supply  of  pro 
visions,  ammunition,  and  pioneers'  tools,  while  the 
boats  of  the  fleet  were  to  ascend  the  smaller  river, 
to  ferry  the  troops  across. 

The  command  of  the  forces  on  shore  was  given 
to  Walley,  on  account  of  his  greater  military  ex 
perience  ;  while  Sir  William,  with  four  of  the 
largest  ships,  was  to  sail  up  the  river,  and  com 
mence  a  cannonade  on  the  lower  town.  In  case 
the  party  on  shore  should  succeed  in  passing  the 
river  St.  Charles,  two  hundred  men  were  to  be 
landed  from  the  ships,  under  cover  of  the  guns, 
and  a  simultaneous  attack  be  made  on  the  upper 
and  lower  town. 

On  the  7th,  though  the  weather  was  tempestu 


SIR     WILLIAM     PHIPS.  59 

ous,  they  attempted  to  put  this  plan  in  execution. 
The  smaller  vessels  got  under  way,  so  as  to 
come  near  the  shore,  and  all  the  boats  of  the 
squadron  were  prepared  for  landing  the  troops. 
But  the  wind  blew  with  such  violence,  that  the 
boats  were  entirely  unmanageable,  and  it  became 
evident,  that  to  persevere  would  spoil  their  ammu 
nition  and  endanger  the  lives  of  the  men.  A  bark, 
commanded  by  Captain  Savage,  with  sixty  men, 
ran  aground,  and,  as  the  tide  fell,  remained  im 
movable  within  a  short  distance  of  the  land. 

The  enemy,  perceiving  the  accident,  immedi 
ately  lined  the  shore,  and  commenced  a  sharp  fire 
of  musketry,  while  a  field-piece  was  conveyed  from 
the  town,  and  brought  to  bear  upon  the  vessel. 
The  situation  of  Savage  was  now  extremely  haz 
ardous,  for  no  boats  could  come  to  his  assistance ; 
and  the  larger  vessels  durst  not  approach,  for  fear 
also  of  taking  the  ground.  But  he  defended  him 
self  with  obstinacy,  his  men  returning  the  enemy's 
fire  under  cover,  and  with  greater  effect.  Sir  Wil 
liam's  flag-ship  at  last  got  so  near,  as  to  throw  a 
few  shot  among  the  French,  who  immediately  dis 
persed  ;  and,  at  the  turn  of  the  tide,  the  bark  float 
ed  off  without  material  damage. 

The  next  day,  the  attempt  at  landing  was  re 
newed  with  better  success.  The  number  of  effec 
tive  men  had  been  so  far  reduced  by  sickness,  that 
only  about  thirteen  hundred  were  put  on  shore, 


Wl  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

and  some  of  these'  were  unfit  for  hard  service 
Each  man  took  with  him  but  three  quarters  of  a 
pound  of  powder,  about  eighteen  shot,  and  two 
biscuits,  as  they  relied  on  a  full  supply  at  night. 
The  beach  shelved  so  gradually,  that  the  men 
were  obliged  to  wade  a  considerable  distance;  and, 
as  the  cold  was  already  severe,  they  landed  wet, 
chilled,  and  dispirited.  " 

At  a  short  distance  from  the  landing-place  was 
a  bog  overgrown  with  wood,  in  which  were  sta 
tioned,  according  to  the  French  account,  about  two 
hundred  forest  rangers,  fifty  officers,  and  a  number 
of  Indians.  Walley's  men  were  suffered  to  ad 
vance  about  half  way  into  this  thicket,  when  a 
galling  fire  was  opened  upon  them  in  front,  and 
on  both  flanks.  This  caused  a  cry  of  "  Indians ! 
Indians !  "  and  for  a  few  moments  the  troops  were 
in  great  confusion.  But  the  New-Englandmen 
of  that  day  had  been  well  trained  to  this  species 
of  bush-fighting,  and,  after  the  moment  of  surprise 
was  past,  the  men  formed  with  firmness,  and 
pushed  the  French  and  savages  before  them  in 
every  direction.  In  this  skirmish,  the  English 
acknowledge  a  loss  of  five  killed  and  twenty 
wounded,  while  they  killed  about  thirty  of  the 
enemy. 

A  small  village  was  on  the  right ;  and  as  the 
enemy  were  there  sheltered  in  the  houses,  and  the 
troops  had  already  spent  nearly  all  their  ammuni- 


SIR     WILLIAM     PHIPS.  61 

tion,  the  commander  determined  to  advance  no 
farther  than  to  a  solitary  house  and  barn,  situated 
in  the  outskirts  of  the  wood,  and  to  encamp  for  the 
night.  It  would  have  been  better,  under  all  cir 
cumstances,  to  occupy  the  village,  and  thus  to 
obtain  shelter  from  the  weather.  It  was  two 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  they  landed,  and  so 
much  time  had  been  occupied  in  skirmishing,  that 
night  came  on  when  they  had  advanced  only  a 
mile  from  the  landing-place. 

The  barn  had  been  set  on  fire  in  the  confusion 
that  ensued  from  driving  a  few  skirmishers  out  of 
it,  and  the  house  could  shelter  only  a  few  of  the 
officers.  The  men  were  obliged  to  bivouac  in  the 
open  air,  as  no  coverings  had  been  brought  from 
the  ships,  and  to  build  large  fires,  to  dry  their 
clothing  and  protect  them  from  the  cold.  The 
winter  had  set  in  unusually  early  and  severe,  and, 
during  the  night,  the  ice  formed  of  sufficient  thick 
ness  to  bear  a  man.  Besides  other  discomforts, 
the  men  had  no  provisions  but  the  few  biscuits, 
which  they  brought  with  them,  for  the  inhabi 
tants  had  driven  all  their  cattle  to  the  woods  be 
yond  the  village. 

About  midnight,  according  to  the  plan  agreed 
upon,  the  small  vessels  came  -up  the  river ;  but, 
instead  of  the  expected  supplies,  they  landed  only 
six  brass  field-pieces,  which,  in  the  present  situa 
tion  of  the  troops,  were  a  mere  incumbrance.  The 


t>2  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

place  at  which  they  were  to  cross  the  St.  Charles 
was  still  at  a  considerable  distance,  and  the  inter 
vening  ground  was  marshy  and  broken  with  many 
deep  gullies.  It  was  vain  to  think  of  drawing  the 
artillery  by  hand,  and  they  had  no  horses.  A 
message  was  sent  for  more  ammunition  and  pro 
visions,  but  they  could  obtain  only  half  a  barrel  of 
powder  and  a  hundred  weight  of  bullets. 

The  cause  of  this  failure  in  the  arrangements 
was  the  strange  eagerness  of  the  commander-in- 
chief  to  have  his  share  in  the  engagement.  The 
council  had  resolved,  that  no  attack  should  be 
made  on  the  lower  town,  till  the  land  troops  had 
crossed  the  St.  Charles,  and  were  ready  to  assault 
the  heights.  But  the  troops  were  no  sooner  ashore, 
than  Sir  William,  with  the  four  large  ships,  sailed 
up  to  the  city,  and  opened  his  fire.  Hardly  any 
damage  was  done  ;  for  the  houses  were  mostly  of 
stone,  and  the  sides  too  thick  for  a  ball  to  pene 
trate,  while  the  fire  was  returned  with  considerable 
effect  from  a  small  battery,  which  the  enemy  has 
tily  erected.  The  ships  anchored  about  a  musket- 
shot  off,  and  cannonaded  till  dark,  when  they  had 
spent  all  their  powder,  except  two  rounds  apiece, 
and  the  larger  vessels  had  received  considerable 
injury  in  the  hull.  -  They  were  then  compelled  to 
drop  down  the  river,  the  admiral's  ship  leaving  be 
hind  its  best  bower  anchor  and  cable. 

Having  fired  away  much  of  their  powder  against 


SIR    WILLIAM     PHIPS.  63 

the  rocks,  no  supply  could  be  sent  to  the  troops 
on  shore.  On  the  morning  of  the  9th,  it  was 
found,  that  several  of  the  men  were  disabled, 
from  having  their  hands  and  feet  frozen,  and 
some  others  had  sickened  of  the  small-pox.  A 
council  of  war  was  held,  to  hear  the  information 
communicated  by  a  French  deserter,  who  came 
over  in  the  course  of  the  night.  He  informed 
them,  that  all  the  French  forces  had  been  concen 
trated  at  Quebec,  with  the  exception  of  fifty  men, 
who  were  left  at  Montreal ;  that  there  were  more 
than  three  thousand  troops  in  the  city,  besides  a 
force  of  about  seven  hundred,  who  were  concealed 
in  a  swamp  close  at  hand ;  and  that  a  battery  of 
eight  guns  had  been  raised,  to  prevent  the  English 
from  crossing  the  river.  The  account  was  evi 
dently  exaggerated,  and  subsequent  events  made 
it  appear  not  improbable,  that  the  man  had  been 
despatched  for  the  express  purpose  of  deceiving 
them. 

Walley  seems  to  have  been  frightened,  and  ren 
dered  incapable  of  forming  or  executing  any  plan 
whatever.  Instead  of  pushing  directly  for  the 
river  and  attempting  to  force  a  passage,  or  of  re 
turning  immediately  to  the  ships,  he  merely  shifted 
the  place  of  encampment  to  a  spot  where  the  men 
were  better  sheltered,  and  there  assumed  the  best 
posture  he  could  for  defending  himself.  Parties 
were  sent  out  to  gain  intelligence,  and  procure 


64  AMERICAN    BIOGRAPHY. 

provisions ;  but  they  brought  back  little  but  fearful 
accounts  of  the  strength  and  preparations  of  the 
enemy.  A  small  quantity  of  spirits  and  a  biscuit 
apiece  for  the  men  were  procured  from  the  ships. 

The  enemy  did  not  venture  a  direct  assault,  for 
which  they  had  not  sufficient  strength  on  that  side 
of  the  river ;  but  they  harassed  the  troops  with  con 
tinual  skirmishing,  in  which  a  number  of  men  were 
lost  on  both  sides.  The  French  account  acknowl 
edges,  that  the  English  generally  fought  well,  and 
attributes  the  want  of  success  to  their  imperfect 
discipline,  and  the  inefficiency,  if  not  the  coward 
ice,  of 'their  commander. 

On  the  next  day,  the  men  still  remaining 
in  their  encampment,  it  was  resolved,  that  the 
commander  should  go  on  board,  to  communicate 
their  situation  to  Sir  William,  and  receive  his 
orders  for  the  future  disposition  of  the  troops.  The 
message  would  have  been  more  properly  intrusted 
to  a  subaltern  ;  but,  through  the  whole  affair,  Wai- 
ley  seems  to  have  manifested  a  particular  wish  to 
withdraw  himself  from  th£  line  of  fire.  Phips  re 
ceived  from  him  a  full,  if  not  exaggerated  account 
of  their  present  difficulties,  and  of  the  obstacles 
that  prevented  an  advance.  The  banks  of  the  St. 
Charles  were  steep,  and  commanded  by  a  heavy 
battery  ;  and  if  they  succeeded  in  forcing  their 
way  across,  it  would  be  necessary  to  attack  a  walled 
town,  garrisoned  by  more  than  twice  their  number. 


SIRWILMAMPHIPS.  65 

Under  such  circumstances,  the  commander-in-chiei 
could  not  hesitate.  Walley  was  ordered  to  draw 
his  men  back  to  the  beach,  and  be  in  readiness  to 
eemb'.irk  on  the  following  day. 

While  the  commanders  were  still  in  conference, 
they  v/ere  alarmed  by  the  sound  of  sharp  firing 
from  die  shore.  Walley  hastily  returned,  and 
found  the  troops  actively  engaged  by  the  French 
and  H.idians,  who  had  assaulted  the  camp.  Major 
Savage,  who  was  left  in  command,  had  maintained 
his  ground  for  some  time  ;  but,  rinding  that  the  men 
acted  to  disadvantage  in  the  swamps  and  thickets, 
a  retreat  took  place,  and  the  enemy  hung  on  the 
rear.  The  pursuit  ceased  when  they  reached  the 
open  ground,  and  the  men  remained  where  they 
were  till  midnight,  when  they  silently  withdrew  to 
the  beach,  where  they  had  landed. 

On  the  next  morning  the  enemy  assembled  in 
force  in  the  adjoining  thicket,  and  fired  occasion 
ally  with  artillery,  which  they  had  brought  from  the 
city.  It  was  judged  hazardous  to  embark  in  open 
day,  in  the  presence  of  so  large  a  force  ;  especial 
ly  as  the  men  were  now  so  much  disheartened, 
that  they  rushed  tumultuously  to  the  water's  edge, 
the  moment  the  boats  touched  the  beach.  The 
boats  were  therefore  ordered  off  till  nightfall  and 
strong  detachments  were  sent  to  drive  the  enemy 
from  the  woods  in  their  immediate  vicinity.  This 
service  was  successfully  performed,  and  the  troops 

^OL    VII.— F  5 


66  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY 

remained  unmolested  during  the  rest  of  the  day. 
At  night,  the  troops  were  safely  conveyed  to  the 
ships,  though  in  the  hurry  of  the  moment  the  guns 
were  forgotten,  and  five  pieces  were  left  on  shore. 
The  cowardice  and  incompetency  of  Walley  are 
sufficiently  apparent  from  his  own  account.  In 
stead  of  being  the  last  man  to  leave  the  shore,  he 
was  among  the  first  to  embark  ;  and  that  too,  when, 
according  to  the  French  account  (though  he  does 
not  allude  to  the  fact) ,  the  enemy  were  keeping  up 
a  constant  fire,  which  was  the  cause  of  the  great 
confusion  that  prevailed.  His  authority  was  insuf 
ficient  to  quell  the  disorder,  and  he  catches  at  a 
trivial  pretence  for  rowing  off  to  the  ships,  leaving 
the  men  and  artillery  to  their  fate. 

On  the  12th  a  council  of  war  was  held,  and  va 
rious  plans  were  discussed  for  renewing  the  attack. 
The  men  were  too  much  exhausted  to  be  put  upon 
immediate  service ;  but  it  was  agreed  to  wait  till 
they  had  recruited  their  strength,  and  then  to  be 
guided  by  circumstances.  In  the  mean  time,  a  boat 
was  despatched  to  the  shore  to  propose  an  ex 
change  of  prisoners  ;  and  seventeen  men,  who  had 
been  captured  at  Casco,  were  released  in  exchange 
for  as  many  Frenchmen,  who  had  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  the  English.  The  possibility  of  another 
attempt  was  at  once  precluded  by  a  violent  storm, 
which  drove  many  of  the  vessels  from  their  an 
chorage,  scattered  the  fleet,  and  obliged  them  a)' 
to  make  the  best  of  their  way  out  of  the  river. 


SIR    WILLIAM     PHIPS  67 

The  causes  of  the  failure  of  this  unlucky  expe 
dition  are  but  too  apparent.  The  time  lost,  in 
waiting  for  a  supply  of  ammunition  from  England, 
delayed  the  arrival  of  the  expedition  till  the  cold 
weather  set  in  ;  Phips,  from  his  want  of  judgment 
and  of  experience  in  military  affairs,  was  little 
qualified  for  the  direction  of  such  an  enterprise ; 
and  the  second  in  command  was  a  coward.  Many 
complaints  were  made  of  the  conduct  of  Walley, 
but  no  one  interested  himself  as  prosecutor,  and  the 
investigation  was  suffered  to  drop. 

The  return  of  the  fleet  was  even  more  disas 
trous  than  the  voyage  out.  The  weather  was 
tempestuous,  and  no  efforts  could  keep  the  fleet 
together.  One  vessel  was  never  heard  of  after 
the  separation ;  another  was  wrecked,  though 
the  crew  were  saved ;  and  the  third,  a  fire-ship, 
was  burnt  at  sea.  Four  ships  were  blown  so  far 
from  the  coast,  that  they  did  not  reach  Boston  for 
five  or  six  weeks  after  the  arrival  of  Sir  William, 
wnen  they  had  been  given  up  for  lost. 


68  AMERICAN      BIOGHAPHY 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Difficulties  created  by  the  Failure  of  the  Canada 
Expedition.  — Issue  of  Paper  Money.  —  Phips 
goes  to  England.  —  Negotiations  respecting 
the  Renewal  of  the  Charter.  —  New  Charter 
granted,  and  Phips  appointed  Governor.  — 
His  Return,  and  Reception  at  Boston.  —  Sa- 
lem  Witchcraft. 

THE  unfortunate  issue  of  the  expedition  against 
Quebec  threw  the  government  of  the  colony  into 
great  embarrassment.  They  had  relied  entirely 
upon  the  success  of  the  attempt,  and  upon  the 
plunder,  which  would  thereby  be  obtained,  for 
money  to  pay  the  soldiers,  and  defray  all  other 
charges.  The  treasury  had  been  drained  by  the 
cost  of  fitting  out  the  fleet,  and  the  soldiers  were 
clamorous  for  their  pay,  when  the  government 
had  not  a  shilling  to  give  them. 

Bills  were  passed,  imposing  extraordinary  taxes, 
the  returns  of  which,  in  two  or  three  years,  would 
be  sufficient  to  meet  all  demands.  But  this  could 
not  satisfy  the  soldiers,  whose  necessities  were 
pressing  and  immediate. 

To  relieve  them,  recourse  was  finally  had  to  an 
expedient  at  that  time  novel.  Bills  of  credit  were 


SIR    WILLIAM    PHIPS.  69 

issued,  which  the  faith  of  the  colony  was  pledged 
to  redeem.  The  notes  were  of  various  denomina 
tions,  from  two  shillings  up  to  ten  pounds  sterling ; 
and  as  no  greater  amount  was  issued,  than  would 
be  brought  into  the  treasury  in  a  year  or  two  by 
the  taxes,  and  as  express  provision  was  made,  that 
these  notes  should  be  received,  even  at  five  per 
cent  advance,  in  payment  of  the  rates,  it  was 
hoped,  that  the  papei  would  circulate,  as  of  equal 
value  with  gold  and  silver. 

Such,  in  fact,  would  have  been  the  case,  had 
the  country  at  the  time  been  under  a  more  settled 
government.  But  the  people  fancied  the  loss  of 
the  old  charter  a  greater  evil  than  it  really  was. 
They  had  not  yet  recovered  it,  and  the  prospect 
of  such  an  event  seemed  every  day  more  distant. 
The  authorities  existed  only  by  sufferance ;  and, 
as  the  King  could  at  any  time  remove  the  sitting 
magistrates,  or  refuse  to  sanction  their  acts,  no 
guaranty  issued  by  them  was  considered  as  perfectly 
safe.  Every  expedient  was  tried  to  keep  up  the 
credit  of  the  notes,  but  with  imperfect  success. 
Sir  William  Phips,  enjoying  a  large  private  fortune, 
and  conscious  that  a  portion  of  the  blame  for  the 
present  embarrassments  might  be  imputed  to  him, 
exchanged  a  large  amount  of  gold  and  silver  for 
the  bills  at  par.  Still  the  credit  of  the  bills  fell 
so  low,  that  the  holders  of  the  paper  could  not 
obtain  more  than  fourteen  shillings  in  the  pound. 


70  AMERICAN    BIOGRAPHY. 

When  the  taxes  came  to  be  paid,  the  paper  of 
course  rose  to  the  value,  at  which  the  government 
were  pledged  to  receive  it.  This  benefited  the 
persons  who  held  the  notes  at  that  time,  but  was 
a  mere  aggravation  of  injury  to  the  poor  soldier, 
who  had  been  compelled  to  pass  his  notes  at  the 
depressed  value. 

In  the  coming  winter,  that  of  1690  —  91,  much 
injury  was  to  be  expected  from  the  incursions  of 
the  Indians.  Fortunately,  the  tribes  at  the  east 
ward  showed  themselves  disposed  for  peace.  A 
party  of  them  came  to  Wells  with  a  flag  of  truce, 
and  proposed,  that  there  should  be  a  cessation  of 
hostilities  for  six  months.  Commissioners  from  the 
General  Court  were  despatched  to  meet  them  ; 
and,  on  the  29th  of  September,  they  agreed  upon 
a  truce  till  the  1st  of  May  ensuing. 

This  treaty  took  away  from  Sir  William  Phips  all 
hopes  of  employment  in  the  public  service.  He 
resolved  upon  another  visit  to  England,  with  the 
view  of  laying  before  the  King  himself  the  consid 
erations  in  favor  of  another  attempt  to  wrest  from 
the  French  all  their  North  American  possessions. 
He  accordingly  embarked  in  the  depth  of  winter, 
and  after  a  tedious  passage  arrived  at  Bristol, 
whence  he  hastened  to  London. 

He  there  offered  the  King  his  services  in  the 
command  of  a  second  expedition ;  and  in  a  paper, 
which  he  presented,  strongly  urged  the  importance 


SIR     WILLIAM     PHIPS.  71 

and  feasibility  of  the  scheme.  He  represented, 
that  the  success  of  the  design  would  give  the 
English  the  exclusive  benefit  of  the  fur  trade,  and 
secure  from  farther  injury  the  Hudson's  Bay  Com 
pany,  several  of  whose  factories  had  recently  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  It  would  also  secure 
the  Newfoundland  fisheries,  and  materially  in 
crease  the  number  of  ships  and  seamen  engaged  in 
that  business.  But,  if  the  French  were  allowed  to 
keep  possession  of  the  country,  the  constantly  in 
creasing  influence  of  the  priests  must  finally  engage 
all  the  Indians  in  their  interest ;  a  result,  which 
would  endanger  the  safety,  not  only  of  New  Eng 
land,  but  of  all  the  American  colonies. 

The  experience  of  half  a  century  was  required, 
before  the  English  government  could  perceive  the 
force  of  these  arguments ;  and  the  enterprise  was 
then  undertaken  and  carried  through,  at  an  ex 
pense  of  blood  and  treasure  a  hundred-fold  greater 
than  what  would  have  been  necessary,  had  they 
yielded  at  the  time  to  the  representations  of  the 
colonists.  But  King  William  was  too  busy  with 
the  war  in  Holland,  to  think  of  an  enterprise 
against  so  remote  a  province  as  Canada. 

By  renewing  his  intimacy  with  Increase  Mather, 
who  was  still  in  London  forwarding  the  application 
to  restore  the  Massachusetts  charter,  Phips  was 
again  induced  to  lend  his  assistance,  in  the  hope 
once  more  of  establishing  the  rights  of  his  country- 


72  AMERICAN    BIOGRAPHY. 

men  on  a  permanent  basis.  The  utmost  anxiety 
was  felt  at  home  upon  this  subject,  for  the  recol 
lection  of  what  had  been  suffered  under  the  former 
governor  was  still  fresh  in  the  minds  of  all ;  and 
the  fact,  that  Andros  was  not  censured  after  he 
was  sent  to  England,  seemed  to  prove,  that  the 
King  and  ministers  regarded  his  administration  as 
severe,  but  not  illegal. 

The  proceedings  of  the  agents  were  embarrassed 
by  the  existence  of  two  parties  at  home  on  this 
subject,  and  by  a  corresponding  difference  of  opin 
ion  among  themselves.  Attached  to  the  old  form, 
under  which  the  affairs  of  the  colony  had  been  so 
long  administered,  many  of  the  people  would  hear 
of  nothing  but  the  restoration  of  the  ancient  char 
ter ;  and,  if  this  could  not  be  obtained,  they  would 
accept  no  new  form,  which  would  abridge,  though 
not  destroy,  their  former  privileges.  They  prefer 
red  to  rely  on  the  moderation  of  the  court.  Since 
the  Revolution,  the  government  had  been  conduct 
ed  on  the  old  principles ;  and,  though  this  was  con 
fessedly  a  temporary  arrangement,  and  dependent 
on  the  pleasure  of  the  King,  they  hoped  it  would 
be  allowed  to  continue.  The  old  charter  or  none, 
all  or  nothing,  was  the  motto  of  the  party.  Among 
the  agents  in  London,  Cooke,  Oakes,  and  Wiswall 
were  firmly  attached  to  these  sentiments. 

A  more  moderate  and  rather  more  numerous 
party,  though  they  preferred  the  old  form,  were 


SIR   WILLIAM     PHIF'S.  73 

yet  willing  to  compromise,  and  to  accept  a  new 
charter,  which  would  secure  the  enjoyment  of  their 
most  important  rights.  The  former  instrument 
was  defective,  and  contained  no  grant  of  certain 
powers,  which  were  essential  to  the  very  existence 
of  the  colony.  It  did  not  authorize  the  grantees 
to  Inflict  capital  punishment,  to  constitute  a  house 
of  representatives,  to  impose  taxes,  or  to  incorpo 
rate  towns  or  colleges.  These  powers  had  indeed 
been  assumed,  yet  without  any  authority  in  the 
terms  of  the  charter.  It  would  be  folly,  then,  to 
appeal  to  the  Court  of  Chancery.  Though  the  for 
mer  sentence  of  that  court  might  be  reversed,  on 
the  ground  of  some  defect  in  legal  forms,  a  new 
writ  might  at  any  time  be  issued,  and  the  charter 
be  again  adjudged  void  in  a  legal  manner.  It  was 
better,  then,  to  purchase,  by  the  relinquishment  of 
a  few  privileges  formerly  assumed,  the  confirma 
tion  and  establishment  of  the  most  important  im 
munities.  Such  was  the  opinion  of  Sir  Henry 
Ashurst  and  Mr.  Mather,  the  other  colony  agents, 
and  Sir  William  Phips,  whose  name  had  consider 
able  weight,  assented  to  their  views. 

The  hope  of  recovering  the  old  charter  now  ap 
peared  to  be  entirely  fallacious.  Even  the  draft 
of  a  new  instrument,  which  conferred  all  the  for 
mer  privileges,  except  the  election  of  their  own 
governor,  was  at  once  rejected  by  the  Privy  Coun 
cil.  Mr.  Mather  and  Sir  William  accordingly 


74  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

united  their  efforts  to  procure  a  new  charter,  though 
they  met  with  nothing  but  opposition  from  the 
other  agents.  Mather  was  introduced  to  the  King 
by  tne  Duke  of  Devonshire,  on  the  28th  of  April, 
1691.  Among  other  reasons  for  restoring  the 
privileges  formerly  er joyed,  and  for  appointing  a 
New  England  man  as  governor,  he  then  urged  the 
great  exertions  made  by  the  colonists  to  enlarge 
the  English  dominions.  The  expedition  to  Can 
ada  was  particularly  referred  to,  as  "  a  great  and 
noble  undertaking." 

Two  days  after  this  conversation,  the  King  sig 
nified  to  the  agents,  "that  he  believed  it  would 
be  for  the  advantage  of  the  people  in  that  colony 
to  be  under  a  governor  appointed  by  himself. 
Nevertheless,  he  would  have  the  agents  of  New 
England  nominate  a  person,  that  should  be  agree 
able  to  the  inclinations  of  the  people  there  ;  and, 
notwithstanding  this,  he  would  have  charter  privi 
leges  restored  and  confirmed  unto  them."  The 
King  departed  for  Holland  the  day  after  giving  this 
promise  ;  and  the  attorney -general  was  ordered  to 
draw  up  the  heads-  of  a  charter  on  the  principles, 
which  he  had  heard  approved  by  his  Majesty. 

This  draft  was  finished  and  presented  some  time 
in  June,  and  received  the  approbation  of  the  Coun 
cil,  though  Mather  protested  strenuously  against  it, 
and  declared  he  would  rather  die,  than  consent  to 
that,  or  any  thing  else,  by  which  the  liberties  of 


SIR    WILLIAM     PHIPS.  75 

his  country  would  be  infringed.  But  the  Council 
treated  his  objections  very  cavalierly,  telling  him, 
that  the  agents  were  not  the  plenipotentiaries  of  a 
foreign  state,  and  must  submit,  or  take  the  conse 
quences.  The  Queen,  however,  was  induced  to 
interfere,  and  to  write  to  the  King  requesting  that 
the  minutes  might  be  altered,  or  that  the  matter 
might  be  deferred  till  his  return.  But  his  Majesty 
signified  his  pleasure,  that  the  charter  should  con 
form  to  the  principles  drawn  up  in  writing  by  the 
attorney-general ;  and  all  that  the  unwearied  solici 
tations  of  Mather  could  effect,  was  that  a  few  im 
portant  articles  should  afterwards  be  inserted. 

The  question  respecting  (he  acceptance  of  the 
instrument,  in  this  form,  was  debated  with  heat 
among  the  agents  and  in  the  colony.  The  opposi 
tion  to  it  became  the  great  cause  of  the  unpopular 
ity  of  the  new  governor,  and  formed  a  considerable 
impediment  to  the  success  of  his  administration. 

Early  in  September,  1691,  Mr.  Mather  was  de 
sired  to  give  in  his  recommendation  of  a  candidate 
for  the  office  of  governor.  His  own  mind  had 
long  been  made  up,  though  many  had  applied  to 
him.  The  fact  that  Sir  William  Phips  was  a  na 
tive  of  New  England,  that  he  possessed  a  high 
rank  and  considerable  estate,  that  he  had  already 
served  the  crown  in  several  important  capacities, 
and  had  obtained  the  favor  of  the  King  without 
forfeiting  his  popularity  at  home,  pointed  him 


76  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

out  as  far  the  most  eligible  person  for  the  office. 
His  name  was  accordingly  presented  to  the  Coun 
cil  by  Sir  Henry  Ashurst  and  Mr.  Mather ;  and 
the  latter,  when  he  obtained  an  audience  of  his 
Majesty  a  few  days  afterwards,  addressed  him  as 
follows. 

"  Sir,  I  do,  in  the  behalf  of  New  England,  most 
humbly  thank  your  Majesty,  in  that  you  have 
been  pleased  by  a  charter,  to  restore  English  lib 
erties  unto  them,  to  confirm  them  in  their  prop 
erties,  and  to  grant  them  some  peculiar  privileges. 
I  doubt  not,  but  that  your  subjects  there  will  de 
mean  themselves  with  that  dutiful  affection  and 
loyalty  to  your  Majesty,  as  that  you  will  see  cause 
to  enlarge  your  favors  towards  them.  And  I  do 
most  humbly  thank  your  Majesty,  in  that  you  have 
been  pleased  to  give  leave  unto  those  that  are 
concerned  for  New  England  to  nominate  their 
governor. 

"  Sir  William  Phips  has  been  accordingly  nomi 
nated  by  us  at  the  Council  Board.  He  hath  done 
a  good  service  for  the  crown,  by  enlarging  your 
dominions,  and  reducing  Nova  Scotia  to  your  obe 
dience.  I  know  that  he  will  faithfully  serve  your 
Majesty  to  the  utmost  of  his  capacity  ;  and  if  your 
Majesty  shall  think  fit  to  confirm  him  in  that 
place,  it  will  be  a  farther  obligation  on  your  sub 
jects  there." 

A  commission  was  accordingly  prepared  under 


SIR    WILLIAM    PHIPS.  77 

the  great  seal,  by  which  Sir  William  Phips  was 
appointed  Captain-general  and  Governor-in-chief 
of  the  Province  of  Massachusetts-bay  in  New  Eng 
land.  By  the  new  charter,  there  were  included 
under  this  title  the  whole  of  the  Old  Colony,  also 
the  Colony  of  new  Plymouth,  the  Province  of 
Maine,  of  Nova  Scotia,  and  all  the  country  be 
tween  the  two  last-mentioned  places,  as  far  north 
as  the  River  St.  Lawrence.  His  commission  also 
appointed  him  Captain-general  of  the  Colonies  of 
Connecticut  and  Rhode  Island.  Sir  William  was 
admitted  with  Mr.  Mather  to  kiss  the  King's  hand 
on  his  appointment  on  the  3d  of  January,  1692. 
Early  in  the  spring,  he  sailed  for  New  England  in 
the  Nonsuch  frigate,  and  arrived  at  Boston  in  May. 

The  General  Court,  then  in  session,  immedi 
ately,  though  with  some  opposition,  passed  a  vote, 
appointing  a  day  of  solemn  thanksgiving  to  Al 
mighty  God,  "  for  granting  a  safe  arrival  to  his 
Excellency  our  Governor,  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  In 
crease  Mather,  who  have  industriously  endeavored 
the  service  of  this  people,  and  have  brought  over 
with  them  a  settlement  of  government,  in  which 
their  Majesties  have  graciously  given  us  distinguish 
ing  marks  of  their  royal  favor  and  goodness." 

On  the  Monday  following  his  arrival,  the  new 
governor  was  conducted  from  his  own  house  to 
the  town-house  by  a  large  escort  of  military,  and  a 
number  of  the  principal  gentlemen  of  Boston  and 


78  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

the  vicinity.      The   ceremony   was   opened  with 
prayer  by  Mr.  Allen,  a  minister  of  Boston.     The 
charter  was   first  read,  then  the  governor's  com 
mission,  after  which  the  venerable  Governor  Brad 
street  resigned  the  chair.     The  commission  of  the 
lieutenant-governor,  Mr.  Stoughton,  was  read,  and 
Sir  William   was  then  conducted  with  the  same 
parade  to  a  public  dinner,  and  afterwards    to  his 
own  house. 

The  affairs  of  the  province  were  in  a  disorder 
ed  state,  and  immediate  action  was  required  to 
defend  it  against  the  public  enemy,  and  to  settle 
some  domestic  troubles.  The  Indians,  who  had 
failed  to  perform  their  promise  the  year  before,  to 
come  in  at  the  conclusion  of  the  truce  and  make  a 
general  treaty  of  peace,  were  now  ravaging  the 
frontiers,  and  the  French  privateers,  which  swarmed 
upon  the  sea-coast,  gave  great  annoyance  to  the 
shipping. 

With  respect  to  internal  affairs,  it  was  necessary 
for  the  General  Court  to  act  immediately  upon  the 
statutes  ;  for  the  colony  laws  under  the  old  charter 
had  been  annulled  by  the  publication  of  the  new. 
In  the  various  proceedings  on  these  subjects,  the 
opposition  party  among  the  people,  and  in  the 
Assembly,  found  little  reason  to  complain  of  the 
conduct  of  their  new  governor.  Either  from  em 
barrassment  arising  from  the  novelty  of  his  situ 
ation,  or  from  a  wish  to  conciliate  the  favor  of  the 


SIR     WILLIAM     PHIPS.  79 

people  in  the  outset,  Sir  William  gave  up  the 
exercise  of  certain  powers  that  belonged  to  him  by 
the  charter.  Thus,  at  the  first  meeting  of  the 
council,  for  the  appointment  of  civil  officers,  he 
permitted  them  to  be  nominated  by  the  members 
present,  he  himself  only  voting  on  the  question  of 
their  approval.  But  this  practice  would  have  ma 
terially  lessened  the  influence  of  the  office,  and  it 
was  soon  abandoned. 

The  representatives  were  treated  in  a  manner 
no  less  conciliatory.  Cotton  Mather  affirms,  that 
he  was  accustomed  to  hold  the  following  language 
towards  them  ;  and  though,  from  such  a  reporter, 
die  words  themselves  cannct  be  received  as  very 
authentic,  they  are  sufficiently  indicative  of  the 
general  tenor  of  his  administration.  "  Gentlemen, 
you  may  make  yourselves  as  easy  as  you  please 
for  ever.  Consider  what  may  have  any  tendency 
to  your  welfare,  and  you  may  be  sure  that  whatev 
er  bills  you  offer  me,  consistent  with  the  honor 
and  interest  of  the  crown,  I  will  pass  them  readily. 
I  do  but  seek  opportunities  to  serve  you ;  had  it 
not  been  for  the  sake  of  this,  I  had  never  accepted 
the  government  of  this  province ;  and  whenever 
you  have  settled  such  a  body  of  good  laws,  that 
no  person  coming  after  me  may  make  you  uneasy, 
I  shall  not  desire  one  day  longer  to  continue  in  the 
government." 

The  commencement  of  Sir  William's  adminis 


80  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

tration  was  distinguished  by  a  series  of  events, 
which  left  the  darkest  spot  that  rests  upon  the  early 
history  of  New  England.  I  refer  to  the  prosecu 
tions,  which  took  place  at  Salem  and  other  towns, 
for  the  supposed  crime  of  witchcraft.  After  all 
the  allowance,  that  can  be  made  for  the  peculiar 
character  of  the  times  and  the  men,  and  for  the 
blighting  effect  upon  all  natural  feeling  of  a  stern 
and  unenlightened  sense  of  religious  duty,  there  will 
yet  be  cause  to  wonder  at  the  infatuation,  which 
could  lead  pious,  learned,  and  well-meaning  men 
so  widely  astray. 

The  history  of  this  remarkable  delusion  falls 
not  within  the  design  of  the  present  work.  Tc 
trace  Sir  William's  personal  agency  in  the  affair, 
and  to  ascertain  his  individual  opinion  on  the  sub 
ject  of  witchcraft,  would  be  interesting,  did  any 
materials  exist  for  such  a  purpose.  But  he  was 
neither  a  journalist  nor  a  letter-writer,  and  we  are 
left  to  gather  his  opinions  from  the  casual  notice 
taken  by  contemporary  writers  of  his  public  acts. 

I  have  attributed  the  strength  of  the  delusion 
and  its  lamentable  consequences  to  religious  feel 
ing  ;  and  the  fact,  that  the  pastors  of  the  churches 
had  the  principal  share  in  creating  the  excitement, 
and  in  supplying  matter  for  the  prosecutions, 
seems  to  corroborate  this  statement.  The  first 
trial  for  witchcraft  arose  from  some  occurrences 
in  the  family  of  a  clergyman  ;  and  Parris  and 


S1K    WILLIAM    PHiPS.  81 

Noyes,  ministers  of  Salem,  and  the  Mathers,  father 
and  son,  were  most  active  in  every  stage  of  the 
proceedings.  The  laity  also  were  engaged,  but 
their  zeal  was  fanned  and  directed  by  exhortation 
ind  instruction  from  the  pulpit. 

Stoughton,  the  lieutenant-governor,  who  pre 
sided  in  the  trials  at  Salem,  was  certainly  an  active 
prosecutor;  but  there  is  no  evidence  that  the 
governor  furthered  the  proceedings  in  any  other 
way,  than  by  sufferance.  Sir  William,  however, 
was  not  a  man  of  sufficient  reflection  and  judg 
ment,  to  form  opinions  contrary  to  the  prevailing 
belief;  and,  as  on  all  subjects  he  was  much  under 
the  influence  of  Cotton  Mather,  it  is  not  unlikely, 
that  he  agreed  with  his  spiritual  adviser  on  this 
point. 

When  Phips  arrived  with  the  new  charter, 
the  prisons  were  crowded  with  suspected  witches, 
and  his  first  act  was  one  of  evil  omen  to  the  ac 
cused.  The  jailers  were  ordered  to  put  them  all 
in  irons.  The  government  were  driven  upon  this 
act  by  the  outcries  of  the  accusers,  who,  thinking 
the  arrival  of  a  new  governor  a  fine  opportunity 
to  show  their  zeal,  immediately  complained,  that 
they  were  afflicted  by  those  in  prison,  though  for 
merly,  their  sufferings  had  ceased  upon  the  com 
mitment  of  the  guilty.  Sir  William  seems  not  to 
have  been  in  earnest  in  the  proceeding ;  for  the 
officers  were  permitted  to  evade  the  order,  by  put- 

VOL.  vn. — a  6 


32  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

ting  on  the  irons  indeed,  but  taking  them  off  again 
immediately. 

The  extravagance  of  the  accusers  had  at  last 
its  proper  effect,  in  opening  the  eyes  of  the  public. 
Emboldened  by  success,  they  hesitated  not  to  de 
nounce  all,  of  whatever  rank  or  respectability  in 
life,  who  dared  to  resist  the  prevailing  opinion,  or 
manifest  any  opposition  to  the  proceedings  Thus, 
they  intimated,  if  they  did  not  openly  assert,  that 
the  lady  of  the  governor  was  a  witch.  Hutchin- 
son  tells  a  story,  on  the  authority  of  a  manuscript 
letter,  which  supplies  a  reason  for  so  strange  a 
charge. 

"  In  Sir  William's  absence,"  says  the  writer  of 
the  letter,  "  his  lady,  I  suppose  on  account  of  her 
name's  being  Mary,  (William  and  Mary,)  was  solicit 
ed  for  a  favor  in  behalf  of  a  woman  committed  by 
one  of  the  judges,  on  accusation  of  witchcraft,  by  a 
formal  warrant  under  his  hand  and  seal,  and  in  close 
prison  for  the  trial  the  next  assizes,  then  not  far 
off.  The  good  lady,  proprid  virtulc,  granted  and 
signed  a  warrant  for  the  said  woman's  discharge, 
which  was  obeyed  by  the  keeper,  and  the  woman 
lives  still,  for  aught  I  know.  Truly  I  did  not  be 
lieve  this  story,  till  I  saw  a  copy  of  the  mittimus 
and  discharge  under  the  keeper's  hand,  attested  a 
true  copy,  for  which  discovery  the  keeper  was  dis 
charged  from  his  trust,  and  put  out  of  his  employ 
ment,  as  he  himself  told  me." 


SIR     WILLIAM     PH1PS.  83 

The  whole  delusion  respecting  the  practice  of 
witchcraft  was  as  short-lived,  as  it  was  violent. 
Some  time  elapsed,  before  the  clergy  were  able  to 
perceive,  or  frank  enough  to  acknowledge,  their 
error.  But  the  people  were  awakened  by  a  sense 
of  common  danger ;  and,  though  a  few  infatuated 
individuals  continued  to  urge  prosecutions,  the  juries 
refused  to  convict.  The  last  act  of  Sir  William 
Phips,  as  governor  of  the  country,  was  to  issue  a 
general  pardon  to  all  those,  who  had  been  convict 
ed  or  accused  of  the  offence.  This  act  had  par 
ticular  reference  to  several  individuals,  who,  in 
the  heat  of  the  excitement,  had  been  charged  with 
the  crime  and  committed  to  prison,  but  through 
the  connivance  of  the  jailers,  or  the  exertions  of 
their  friends,  had  made  their  escape,  and  taken 
refuge  in  a  neighboring  province 


84  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 


CHAPTER  V 

Legislative  Acts.  —  Indian  War.  —  Attack  upon 
Wells.  —  Building  of  Fort  William  Henry. 
—  Elections  in  May,  1693. —  Unpopularity 
of  Phips.  —  Peace  concluded  unth  the  Indians 
at  Pemaquid.  —  Phips  quarrels  with  Short 
and  Brenton.  —  Recalled '  to  England.  —  His 
Death  and  Character. 

WHEN  the  officers  under  the  new  charter  enter 
ed  upon  the  performance  of  their  duties,  the  affairs 
of  the  province  were  embarrassed,  and  the  confu 
sion  was  increased  by  the  necessity  of  postponing 
much  pressing  business,  till  the  excitement  caused 
by  the  witchcraft  affair  had  a  little  subsided.  I 
have  already  said,  that  the  old  colonial  laws  were 
vacated  by  the  provisions  of  the  new  charter.  The 
General  Court,  which  met  in  June,  1692,  merely 
passed  an  act,  that  the  former  laws  should  continue 
in  force  till  November  of  the  same  year,  and  then 
adjourned  till  the  second  Wednesday  of  October. 

When  they  again  assembled,  no  attempt  was 
/Hade  to  frame  a  body  of  laws,  which  might  at 
once  be  transmitted  to  England  for  approval,  and 
form  a  basis  for  all  subsequent  legislation  ;  but 
acts  were  successively  framed  and  passed,  as  the 
emergencies  cf  the  moment  called  for  them.  Ac- 


SIR     WILLIAM     PHIPS.  85 

customer!  to  legislate  only  on  the  basis  of  existing 
laws,  the  members  of  the  Council  and  the  Assem 
bly  were  only  confused  by  a  call  to  frame,  as  f 
were,, the  government  de  novo,  and  the  govern 
or  had  not  the   skill  nor  the  information  neces 
sary  to  direct  them.     Some  of  their  laws  were  ap 
proved  by  the  King,  others  were  sent  back  fo- 
alteration,  while  the  country  suffered  from  the  de 
lay.     The  proceedings  were  further  embarrassed 
by  the  existence  of  a  large  party  opposed  to  Phips^ 
who  threw  every  obstacle  they  could  in  the  way 
of  the  administration. 

The  old  attachment  to  their  liberties,  and  desire 
for  their  complete  ratification,  were  conspicuous  in 
the  first  actions  of  the  House.  What  was  called  a 
la\v,  (but  it  was  rather  a  declaration  of  rights,  for 
most  of  its  provisions  were  copied  from  Magna 
Charta,}  was  passed  at  an  early  period,  and  de 
spatched  to  England.  It  declared,  that  "  no  aid, 
tax,  tallage,  assessment,  custom,  loan,  benevolence, 
or  imposition  whatever,"  should  be  laid,  under  any 
pretence,  but  by  the  act  and  consent  of  the  Gov 
ernor,  Council,  and  Representatives  assembled  in 
General  Court.  This  bill  met  with  the  fate, 
which  might  have  been  expected.  It  was  disal 
lowed  by  the  King,  as  were  also  some  laws  for  the 
punishment  of  crimes,  which  were  drawn  up  too 
closely  in  the  spirit  of  the  Jewish  code. 

Meanwhile  the  frontiers  were   suffering    under 


86  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

the  barbarities  of  an  Indian  war.  It  raged  chiefly 
in  the  eastern  part  of  the  province,  where  the 
savages,  recruited  in  strength  the  preceding  year 
by  a  six  months'  truce,  were  now  carrying  it  on 
with  fresh  vigor.  Major  Hutchinson,  who  com 
manded  the  English  forces,  was  at  Portsmouth ; 
he  had  distributed  his  small  body  of  troops  along 
the  frontier  line,  which  had  been  much  contracted 
by  the  loss  of  York. 

Captain  Converse,  with  fifteen  men,  was  posted 
at  Storer's  garrison-house,  in  Wells.  Early  in 
June,  two  sloops  came  up  the  small  river  at  that 
place,  with  fifteen  men  on  board,  bringing  a  supply 
of  ammunition.  On  the  10th,  the  garrison  was 
alarmed  by  the  running  of  wounded  cattle  from 
the  woods.  Thus  informed  of  the  approach  of 
the  enemy,  preparations  were  made  to  receive 
them,  by  bringing  the  sloops  as  near  as  possible  to 
the  garrison,  and  keeping  a  strict  watch  during  the 
night.  The  enemy,  who  consisted  of  about  four 
hundred  French  and  Indians,  commanded  by  Mon 
sieur  Labocree,  commenced  the  assault  early  in 
the  morning.  They  kept  up  the  attack  more 
than  forty-eight  hours,  when  they  retired  with  the 
loss  of  their  commander  and  a  number  of  men  ; 
while  the  garrison  had  but  one  killed  by  a  musket- 
shot,  and  one  was  taken  prisoner  m  passing  from 
the  sloops  to  the  fort,  and  tortured  to  death. 

This  attack  upon  Wells  was  the  only  considera- 


SIR     WILLIAM     PHIPS.  87 

ole  attempt  made  by  the  enemy,  in  the  course  of 
the  year ;  but,  by  lurking  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
settlements,  cutting  off  every  straggler  whom  they 
met,  and  watching  for  an  opportunity  to  surprise 
a  village,  they  created  more  general  alarm  than 
they  could  have  done,  had  they  acted  in  con 
cert  on  some  open  enterprise.  Agriculture  was 
necessarily  abandoned,  and  the  frontier  men  were 
obliged  to  confine  themselves  and  their  families 
to  the  stockades  and  garrison-houses. 

To  restore  confidence  to  the  settlers,  and  to 
curb  the  Indians  by  the  establishment  of  a  strong 
fort  in  the  centre  of  the  territory,  which  formed 
their  field  of  operation,  became  an  object  of  para 
mount  importance.  Orders  to  this  effect  had  been 
received  from  England,  and  late  in  the  summer  the 
governor  prepared  to  carry  them  into  execution. 

A  site  was  chosen  on  a  point  of  land  projecting 
into  Pemaquid  river,  and  so  near  the  mouth,  as  to 
command  all  access  by  this  stream  into  the  interior 
of  the  country.  The  river  at  this  place  is  about 
forty  rods  wide,  and  the  tides  rise  from  fourteen  to 
sixteen  feet.  Andros  had  caused  a  stockade  fort 
to  be  erected  on  the  spot,  but  the  Indians  had  de 
stroyed  it  in  1789. 

In  August,  Governor  Phips,  attended  by  Major 
Church  and  four  hundred  and  fifty  men,  embarked 
at  Boston,  and  taking  Falmouth  in  his  course, 
to  obtain  some  large  guns,  arrived  at  Pemaquid 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

The  fort  was  constructed  in  a  quadrangular  form, 
and  the  walls  were  built  of  stone.  It  was  named 
Fort  William  Henry.  Leaving  Captains  Wing  and 
Bancroft,  with  two  companies,  to  finish  the  works, 
Sir  William  despatched  Major  Church  with  the 
greater  part  of  the  troops  to  Penobscot,  in  search 
of  the  enemy,  and  returned  himself  to  Boston. 
Church  succeeded  in  taking  only  five  of  the  ene 
my,  and  in  burning  the  Indian  town  at  Taconet. 

Great  discontent  was  caused  by  the  building  of 
Fort  William  Henry,  and  by  the  largeness  of  the 
sum  expended.  So  far  as  the  murmurs  related  to 
the  construction  of  any  fort,  they  were  unreason- 
ble,  for  such  a  measure  was  necessary  for  the  pro 
tection  of  the  frontiers.  But  it  was  said,  that  little 
judgment  was  shown  in  the  choice  of  a  site,  and  in 
the  mode  of  building.  The  fort  defended  only 
one  harbor,  and  that  was  not  a  very  important 
one,  and  did  not  afford  a  convenient  centre  of  oper 
ations  ;  as  it  was,  it  disturbed  somewhat  the  opera 
tions  of  the  French,  who  sent  an  expedition  against 
it  before  the  close  of  the  year  ;  but  the  place  was 
found  to  be  stronger  than  they  had  expected,  and 
they  retired  without  risking  an  assault. 

The  appointment  of  Phips  as  captain-general 
of  Connecticut  and  Rhode  Island  was  the  cause 
of  some  trouble.  The  object  in  giving  him  the 
command  of  the  military  in  places  where  he  held 
no  civil  authority  seems  to  have  been,  that  the 


SIR    WILLIAM     PHIPS. 

united  forces  of  the  New  England  provinces  might 
act  with  greater  unanimity  and  effect  against  the 
common  enemy.  But  no  law  of  these  two  govern 
ments  required  the  submission  of  the  people  to  an 
oflicer  from  Massachusetts,  and  the  commission  of 
Phips,  in  this  particular,  was  rendered  void.  He 
visited  Rhode  Island,  in  the  first  year  of  his  gov 
ernment,  to  regulate  the  militia  there ;  he  divided 
the  colony  into  several  regiments,  and  gave  to 
Colonel  Stanford,  who  was  commander-in-chief,  a 
number  of  commissions  for  the  officers  to  be  ap 
pointed.  But  most  of  these  refused  to  take  the 
commissions ;  and,  as  the  people  would  pay  no  re 
gard  to  them,  the  matter  was  allowed  to  pass  over 
without  notice. 

At  the  elections  in  May,  1693,  the  people  had 
an  opportunity  of  testifying  the  opinion,  which 
they  entertained  of  Phips  and  his  government. 
Ten  of  those,  who  had  been  counsellors  the  year 
before,  having  been  nominated  to  that  office  by 
Mr.  Mather  and  Sir  William,  were  left  out,  and 
others  were  put  in,  some  of  whom  were  on  bad 
terms  with  the  governor.  He  refused  his  consent 
to  the  choice  of  Mr.  Cooke,  who  had  been  one  of 
the  colony  agents  in  England,  and  had  opposed 
his  own  nomination.  But  Cooke  was  much  es 
teemed  by  the  people ;  and  it  would  have  been 
more  politic  in  the  governor,  to  suffer  his  pres 
ence  at  the  council-board,  than  to  endanger  hi? 
vir. — H 


90  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

own    popularity,   by   putting   a  negative   on    the 
election. 

It  Was  evident,  that  Sir  William's  favor  with  his 
countrymen  had  declined.  The  dislike  of  the 
new  charter,  and  of  those  who  were  concerned  in 
obtaining  it,  together  with  the  weight  of  taxes 
caused  by  the  prosecution  of  the  war,  account  but 
partially  for  this  result.  The  governor's  hasty 
temper  led  him  into  difficulties,  which  his  real 
goodness  of  heart  could  not  induce  the  people  to 
overlook. 

The  project  of  another  attempt  upon  Canada 
had  been  entertained  during  the  winter,  and  re 
peated  applications  to  the  English  government  had 
at  last  induced  the  ministers  to  promise  assistance. 
Sir  Francis  Wheeler,  the  English  admiral  in  the 
West  Indies,  arrived  in  the  early  part  of  the  sum 
mer,  bringing  with  him  a  body  of  troops  sufficient, 
when  united  with  the  New  England  forces,  to  cap 
ture  Montreal  and  Quebec.  Phips  was  to  head 
the  provincial  troops,  but  to  act  under  the  orders  of 
Wheeler.  Unluckily,  the  arrangement  was  made 
in  England,  and  notice  of  it  was  not  conveyed 
to  the  province  in  time  for  the  necessary  prepar 
ations. 

The  plan  was  wholly  defeated  by  a  disease, 

which  broke  out  in  the  fleet  while  in  the  West 

Indies,  and  proved  so  fatal,  that  by  the  llth  of 

ine,  when  the  admiral  arrived  at  Boston,  he  had 


SIR    WILLIAM    PHIPS  91 

hurled  thirteen  hundred  out  of  twenty-one  hun 
dred  sailors,  and  eighteen  hundred  out  of  twenty- 
four  hundred  soldiers.  The  arrival  of  the  fleet 
introduced  the  disease  into  the  town,  where  it 
made  greater  ravages  than  any  contagious  disease, 
which  had  ever  visited  them  before,  and  alarmed 
many  families  so  much,  that  they  withdrew  to  the 
country 

Thus  exposed  for  another  season  to  the  rav 
ages  of  the  French  and  Indians,  the  provincial 
government  made  such  preparations  as  they  were 
able,  in  their  own  defence.  Three  hundred  and 
fifty  men  were  levied,  and  put  under  the  com 
mand  of  Converse,  who  received  a  major's  com 
mission,  in  consideration  of  his  good  conduct  the 
year  before.  Being  informed  of  a  party  of  Indians 
who  were  lurking  in  the  woods  near  Wells,  he 
surprised  and  killed  the  greater  part  of  them,  in 
retaliation  for  a  family,  whom  they  had  murdered 
a  short  time  before,  at  Oyster  River.  He  then 
embarked  for  Pemaquid,  and  passing  up  Sheeps- 
cot  river,  marched  through  the  woods  to  Taconet, 
which  he  found  deserted  by  the  Indians.  Thence 
he  repaired  to  Saco,  and  laid  the  foundations  of  a 
fort,  which  was  afterwards  finished  by  some  of  his 
officers,  and  proved  of  great  service  in  the  war. 

These  were  the  only  military  operations  of  the 
season.  The  Indians  were  by  this  time  discouraged 
at  the  length  of  the  war,  and  by  the  fact  that  the 

. 


y^  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

French  were  not  able  to  afford  them  so  much  as 
sistance  as  formerly.  They  also  feared  an  attack 
from  the  Five  Nations,  who  espoused  the  cause  oi 
the  English.  A  French  missionary,  who  resided 
among  them,  used  all  his  endeavours  to  prevent 
an  accommodation,  but  he  was  unsuccessful. 

The   provincials,  on   their   side,  were   no   less 
easier  to  be  rid  of  the  war.     The  Indian  sachems 

o 

came  to  Pemaquid,  the  officers  of  which  fort  had 
been  empowered  to  make  an  agreement,  and  on 
the  llth  of  August  a  treaty  was  signed. 

While  the  peace  continued,  Sir  William  took 
all  proper  measures  to  conciliate  the  entire  good 
will  of  the  Indians,  and  induce  them  to  break  off 
all  connexion  with  the  French.  In  the  summer  of 
this  year,  he  undertook  a  voyage  to  Maine  for  this 
purpose,  and  for  regulating  the  trade.  He  took 
with  him  Nahauton,  an  Indian  preacher,  intend 
ing  to  leave  him  among  them,  that  he  might  teach 
them  Protestant  Christianity.  But  the  event 
showed,  what  might  have  been  expected  in  the 
outset,  that  the  diligence  of  the  French  Jesuits 
had  been  such,  as  to  confirm  the  savages  in  some 
rude  notion  of  the  Roman  Catholic  doctrine,  and 
to  ally  them  inseparably  with  the  people,  who 
professed  that  faith.  The  sachems  came  to  Pema 
quid,  however,  received  presents,  expressed  their 
satisfaction,  and  made  large  promises  of  future 
fidelity ;  with  how  much  sincerity  was  phown  by 
the  renewal  of  the  war  in  less  than  a  year. 


SIR     WILLIAM     PHIPS  93 

The  governor  visited  Pemaquia  again  in  the 
course  of  a  few  months,  when  he  had  an  interview 
with  Madockewandos,  one  of  their  principal  sa 
chems,  and  obtained  from  him  the  grant  of  a  con 
siderable  tract  of  land. 

For  the  few  remaining  months  of  Sir  William's 
administration,  we  hear  little  of  him,  except  from  the 
unfortunate  controversies  with  individuals,  in  which 
he  became  involved.  His  favor  with  the  people 
had  so  much  declined,  that,  from  the  mere  unpleas 
antness  of  his  situation,  he  became  peevish,  irrita 
ble,  and  jealous  of  encroachments  upon  the  dignity 
of  his  office.  The  first  quarrel  with  a  private  per 
son,  though  it  arose  from  a  controversy,  in  which 
Phips  took  the  popular  side,  had  a  material  effect 
in  diminishing  the  respect,  which  the  people  were 
accustomed  to  pay  to  their  governor. 

The  maritime  affairs  of  the  province  had -never 
been  clearly  regulated  by  the  government  of  the 
mother  country.  The  several  governors  were  en 
joined,  under  severe  penalties,  to  see  that  the 
trade  and  navigation  acts  were  duly  observed  ;  but 
though  the  admiralty  jurisdiction  was  expressly  re 
served  to  the  King,  no  admiralty  officers  had  been 
regularly  appointed,  and  no  court  established. 
Phips  maintained,  that,  by  virtue  of  his  commis 
sion  as  vice-admiral,  he  had  a  right  to  sit  as  judge  ; 
and  he  ordered  several  prizes,  which  had  been 
taken  by  a  privateer  among  the  Leeward  Islands, 
to  be  brought  before  him  for  condemnation. 


94  AMERICAN    BIOGRAPHY. 

It  had  been  usual  for  the  governor  to  appoint  a 
naval  officer,  and  ship-masters  entered  and  cleared 
their  vessels  with  him.  Sir  William  appointed  a 
Mr.  Jackson  to  this  office.  But  in  the  course  of 
the  year  1693,  Mr.  Brenton,  a  young  gentleman 
of  good  family,  was  commissioned  by  the  King,  as 
collector  of  the  port  of  Boston,  though  no  custom 
house  had  as  yet  been  established.  The  people 
resented  this  appointment,  and  complained  that  it 
only  burdened  them  with  unnecessary  and  unrea 
sonable  fees.  They  questioned  Brenton's  author 
ity,  and  still  continued  to  enter  and  clear  their 
vessels  with  the  naval  officer,  in  which  course 
they  were  supported  by  the  governor. 

In  the  spring  of  1694,  a  vessel  laden  with  fustic 
from  the  Bahama  Islands  arrived  at  Boston.  No 
bond  had  been  given  for  the  cargo,  and  the  collec 
tor  consequently  seized  both  ship  and  goods.  The 
fustic  had  been  purchased  by  Colonel  Foster,  a 
merchant  of  Boston  and  a  member  of  the  Council, 
who,  loth  to  part  with  his  bargain,  complained  to 
the  governor.  He  immediately  interposed,  and 
sent  an  order  to  the  collector  to  release  the  goods. 
When  Brenton  refused  to  obey,  Sir  William  went 
to  the  wharf  where  he  was,  and  after  some  alter 
cation,  actually  chastised  him  with  his  own  hands. 
The  vessel  and  goods  were  then  taken  from  him, 
and  delivered  to  the  owners. 

Another  private  quarrel  of  the  governor  occur- 


SIK     WILLIAM     PHIPS  95 

red  in  the  same  year,  and  under  similar  circum 
stances.  Some  disagreement  had  arisen  between 
him  and  Short,  the  captain  of  the  Nonsuch  frigate, 
in  which  he  had  made  his  last  voyage  from  England, 
and  which  was  now  lying  in  the  harbor  of  Boston. 
Short  complained,  that  the  proceeds  of  a  prize, 
which  had  been  taken  on  the  voyage,  had  been 
unfairly  distributed,  and  that  he  and  his  men  had 
oeen  defrauded  of  their  proper  share.  Phips  was 
exasperated  by  such  a  charge,  and  the  power 
vested  in  him  by  his  commission  enabled  him  to 
manifest  his  dislike.  The  captains  of  the  men-of- 
war  on  the  colony  station  were  then  required  to 
follow  the  instructions  of  the  governors,  who  had 
power  even  to  suspend  them  from  office,  in  case 
of  great  misdemeanors. 

Information  had  been  received,  that  a  French 
man-of-war  was  expected  at  St.  John's,  and  the 
governor  ordered  the  Nonsuch  frigate  thither,  to 
intercept  it.  An  attempt  seems  to  have  been 
made  to  deprive  Short  of  the  command,  at  least  for 
this  voyage,  and  to  leave  the  vessel  in  charge, 
either  of  the  officer  next  in  rank,  or  of  a  captain 
appointed  by  Sir  William.  But  Short  successfully 
resisted  this  attempt,  and,  incensed  by  such  treat 
ment,  probably  used  no  great  despatch  in  the  ser 
vice  for  which  he  was  sent.  At  any  rate  the 
French  vessel  had  sailed  before  he  arrived,  and 
he  returned  without  effecting  any  thing.  Phips 


96  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

warmly  accused  him  of  negligence  and  cowardice, 
and  one  day  meeting  him  in  the  street,  "  warm 
words  passed,  and  the  governor  at  length  made 
use  of  his  cane,  arid  broke  Short's  head."  He 
then  caused  him  to  be  arrested,  sent  to  the  castle, 
and  thence  on  board  a  merchant  vessel,  giving  the 
master  a  warrant  to  carry  him  as  a  prisoner  to 
England. 

By  some  accident,  the  vessel  was  compelled  to 
put  into  Portsmouth,  and  Sir  William,  now  con 
vinced  that  he  had  acted  too  hastily,  proceeded 
thither,  and  ordered  the  master  of  the  vessel  to 
return  the  warrant,  which  he  tore  in  pieces.  Short 
was  set  at  liberty,  and  Sir  Francis  Wheeler,  who 
arrived  at  Boston  soon  afterwards,  sent  for  him 
and  carried  him  to  England,  where  he  obtained 
the  command  of  another  ship. 

These  two  quarrels  were  as  impolitic,  as  they 
were  undignified.  They  injured  the  respectability 
of  the  office,  and  impaired  the  popularity  of  the 
man.  Both  in  the  Council  and  the  Lower  House, 
the  opponents  of  the  governor,  who  were  far  more 
active  than  his  friends,  had  now  definite  reasons 
for  dissatisfaction,  and  they  were  not  backward 
in  using  them,  to  prejudice  the  minds  of  the 
people,  and  to  give  weight  to  the  representations 
against  Phips,  which  they  sent  to  their  English 
correspondents.  On  the  other  hand,  his  friends 
in  the  House  of  Representatives  proposed  an 


SIR     WILLIAM     PHIPS.  97 

address  to  the  King,  praying  that  the  governor 
might  not  be  removed ;  but,  though  they  mustered 
all  their  strength,  out  of  fifty  members  present, 
twenty-four  voted  against  the  proposition. 

About  this  time,  it  so  happened,  that  the  friends 
of  Phips,  in  their  anxiety  to  strengthen  the  hands 
of  the  government,  really  secured  an  important 
privilege  to  the  people.  The  qualifications  for 
membership  of  the  House  had  never  been  clearly 
determined,  and  some  of  the  smaller  towns,  from 
the  want  of  proper  candidates  among  themselves, 
had  adopted  the  practice  of  choosing  gentlemen 
from  Boston  to  represent  them  in  the  General 
Court.  The  governor  was  less  popular  in  the 
town  than  the  country,  and  most  of  these  non 
resident  members  belonged  to  the  opposition.  A 
bill  was  therefore  introduced,  and  pressed  through 
both  Houses,  that  in  future  none  but  residents 
should  be  eligible  as  representatives.  This  meas 
ure  excited  some  murmuring  at  the  time,  for  it 
excluded  a  few  of  the  most  respectable  and  in 
fluential  members  ;  but  it  was  soon  considered  as 
establishing  an  important  safeguard  for  the  rights 
of  the  people. 

It  was  now  generally  understood,  that  Sir  Wil 
liam's  administration  was  drawing  to  a  close.  Be 
sides  his  open  enemies,  he  had  many  lukewarm 
friends,  who  did  much  to  injure  his  interests. 
Stoughton,  the  lieutenant-governor,  was  very  cold 

VOL.  vn.  7 


93  AMERICAN      BIOGBAPHY. 

towards  him,  and  Mr.  Dudley,  a  former  governor 
of  the  province,  who  desired  to  recover  the  office, 
was  pressing  his  suit  in  London.  Short  and  Bren- 
ton  had  both  preferred  their  complaints  to  the 
King,  and  .the  Lords  of  the  Treasury  together 
with  the  Board  of  Trade  requested  that  the  gov 
ernor  might  he  immediately  displaced.  The  King 
refused  to  condemn  him  unheard,  but  ordered  him 
to  leave  the  province,  and  come  to  England  to  de 
fend  himself.  Sir  William  accordingly  left  Boston, 
on  the  17th  of  November,  1694. 

On  his  arrival,  he  was  arrested  by  Dudley  and 
Brenton  in  actions  of  twenty  thousand  pounds' 
damages.  What  were  the  grounds  of  such  a  pro 
ceeding  on  the  part  of  Dudley,  it  is  impossible  to 
tell.  He  had  not  been  in  the  province  recently, 
and  it  is  difficult  to  see  how  Phips  could  have  in 
jured  him  in  London.  The  action  was  probably 
brought  as  a  mere  stroke  of  policy  to  increase  the 
difficulties  under  which  Phips  labored,  and  embar 
rass  the  application  for  his  return.  Sir  Henry 
Ashurst  became  his  bail,  and  remained  his  friend 
to  the  last.  It  was  urged  in  his  defence,  that  Par 
liament  had  established  no  custom-house  in  Bos 
ton,  but  had  recognised  the  existence  of  a  naval 
office.  No  defence  was  necessary  in  the  case 
of  Captain  Short ;  for,  owing  either  to  his  ab 
sence  from  the  country,  or  his  forgetfulness  of  the 
provocation  he  had  received,  he  had  exhibited  no 
articles  of  complaint. 


SIR    WILLIAM     PHIPS.  99 

Cotton  Mather  asserts,  that  Sir  William's  an 
swer  to  the  charges  brought  against  him  was 
triumphant,  and  that  he  received  assurances  of 
being  restored  to  his  government.  But  this  is 
hardly  probable.  Though  no  proceedings  strictly 
illegal  may  have  been  proved  against  him,  the  King 
would  hardly  desire  to  restore  to  an  important 
station  a  man,  who  had  so  far  forgotten  the  dignity 
of  his  office,  as  to  cane  a  commissioned  officer. 

Unable  to  remain  idle  under  any  circumstan 
ces,  Phips  now  engaged  in  the  prosecution  of 
two  several  designs.  The  one  was  a  scheme  for 
supplying  the  English  navy  with  timber  and  na 
val  stores  from  the  Eastern  parts  of  New  Eng 
land.  The  conception  was  plausible,  and  no 
person  was  better  fitted  than  himself  to  carry  it 
into  execution. 

The  other  project  was  of  a  more  doubtful  char 
acter,  being  nothing  else  than  to  return  to  his  old 
business  of  fishing  for  shipwrecked  treasure.  He 
had  heard,  that  the  ship,  which  had  on  board  the 
Spanish  governor  Bobadilla,  with  a  large  amount 
of  gold  and  silver,  had  been  cast  away  somewhere 
in  the  West  Indies.  The  Duke  of  Albemarle's 
patent  for  all  such  wrecks  had  now  expired ;  but 
he  proposed  to  have  it  renewed  in  his  own  person, 
and  to  try  if  fortune  would  be  as  favorable,  as  on 
the  former  expedition. 

But  the  execution  of  these  designs  was  suddenly 


100  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY 

cut  short.  About  the  middle  of  February,  1695, 
he  found  himself  indisposed  with  a  cold,  which 
confined  him  to  his  chamber.  It  resulted  in  a  ma 
lignant  fever,  which  caused  his  death  on  the  18th 
of  the  month,  in  the  forty -fifth  year  of  his  age.  He 
was  honorably  interred  in  the  church  of  St.  Mary, 
Woolnoth.  Sir  William  left  no  children.  Spen 
cer  Phips,  whose  name  occurs  frequently,  in  the 
subsequent  history  of  the  colonies,  was  his  nephew, 
whom  he  had  adopted  into  his  family.  His  widow 
married  Peter  Sargent,  who  was  elected  to  the 
Board  of  Counsellors  in  Massachusetts,  in  1702. 

Hutchinson  sums  up  the  character  of  Sir  William 
Phips  in  a  few  words.  "  He  was  an  honest  man  ; 
but  by  a  series  of  fortunate  incidents,  rather  than 
by  any  uncommon  talents,  he  rose  from  the  lowest 
condition  in  life  to  be  the  first  man  in  his  country." 

Perhaps  a  candid  review  of  the  principal  events 
in  his  career  would  prove  this  judgment  to  be  too 
severe.  Fortune  befriended  him  only  when  he 
had  earned  her  favors  by  ceaseless  industry  and  the 
most  indomitable  perseverance.  He  succeeded  in 
enterprises  so  hopeless  at  first  sight,  that  men  of 
sober  judgment  would  never  have  engaged  in  them, 
and  after  failures  and  discouragements,  which 
would  have  caused  persons  of  ordinary  prudence 
to  give  up  the  attempt  in  despair.  He  was  better 
fitted  to  execute  the  orders  of  others,  than  to  issue 
orders  himself;  and  the  reputation,  which  he  lost 


SIR     WILLIAM     PH1PS.  101 

as  a  rash  and  unskilful  commander,  he  might  have 
gained  as  an  active  and  daring  subaltern.  He 
was  unfit  to  lead  an  army,  or  to  govern  a  province, 
and  the  chance,  which  placed  him  in  such  situa 
tions,  was  an  unlucky  one  ;  but  a  better  education 
might  have  qualified  him  for  either  station,  as  his 
natural  endowments  were  perhaps  sufficient  for 
both. 

He  enjoyed  a  large  fortune,  acquired  solely  by 
his  own  exertions ;  but  he  was  neither  purse-proud, 
parsimonious,  nor  extravagant.  Far  from  conceal 
ing  the  lowness  of  his  origin,  he  made  it  a  matter 
of  honest  pride,  that  he  had  risen  from  the  business 
of  a  ship-carpenter  to  the  honors  of  knighthood, 
and  the  government  of  a  province.  Soon  after  he 
was  appointed  to  the  chief  magistracy,  he  gave  a 
handsome  entertainment  to  all  the  ship-carpenters 
of  Boston  ;  and,  when  perplexed  with  the  public 
business,  he  would  often  declare,  that  it  would  be 
easier  for  him  to  go  back  to  his  broad-axe  again. 
He  was  naturally  of  a  hasty  temper,  and  was  fre 
quently  betrayed  into  improper  sallies  of  passion, 
but  never  harbored  resentment  long.  Though  not 
rigidly  pious,  he  reverenced  the  offices  of  religion, 
and  respected  its  ministers.  He  was  credulous, 
but  no  more  so  than  most  of  his  better  educated 
contemporaries.  The  mistakes,  which  he  commit 
ted  as  a  public  officer,  were  palliated  by  perfect 


102  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

uprightness  of  intention,  and  by  an  irreproacha 
ble  character  in  private  life  ;  for  even  his  warmest 
opponents  never  denied  him  the  title  of  a  kind 
husband,  a  sincere  patriot,  and  an  honest  man 


OLIVER  W    B.  PEABODY 


ISRAEL   PUTNAM 


CHAPTER  I. 

His  Birth  and  Education.  —  Becomes  a  prac 
tical  Farmer.  —  Singular  Adventure  in  killing 
a  Wolf.  —  Enters  the  Army  as  Captain  of  a 
Company  of  Rangers.  —  Engages  in  the  War 
against  the  French  and  Indians  on  the  Can 
ada  Frontiers. 

OUR  history,  from  its  beginning  until  a  compar 
atively  recent  time,  gives  us  abundant  instances  of 
men,  in  whom  the  deficiences  of  education  have 
been  supplied  by  natural  resource  and  energy. 
Thrown  into  novel  situations,  where  instruction 
and  experience  would  sometimes  have  availed 
them  little,  they  have  yet  accomplished  all  that 
any  exigency  could  require.  Some  of  them  were 
called  to  lay  the  foundations  of  civil  institutions  in 
the  wilderness  ;  some  to  subdue  a  fierce  and  unre 
lenting  savage  foe ;  some  to  encounter  the  hostility 
of  other  nations,  as  well  as  of  that  which  they  re 
garded  as  their  own.  Privation  and  suffering,  in 
vn. — i 


106  AMERICAN    BIOGRAPHY. 

every  form  in  which  they  commonly  exhaust  the 
frame  and  overcome  the  spirit,  were  to  attend 
them  often  by  the  fireside,  and  always  in  the  en 
gagements  of  life.  These  evils,  if  evils  they  were 
which  led  to  immortality,  were  encountered  with 
manly  and  heroic  firmness ;  and  it  must  needs  be, 
that  the  personal  history  of  men,  exhibiting  the 
vigor  and  flexibility  of  character  required  by  the 
circumstances  in  which  they  were  thus  placed, 
should  be  full  of  freshness  and  diversity.  Without 
pretending  to  claim  for  General  Putnam  the  very 
highest  rank  among  such  individuals,  we  may  yet 
venture  to  assign  him  an  honorable  place.  His 
biography  has  been  already  written  by  a  friend  and 
fellow-soldier,  who  gathered  from  his  own  lips  a 
portion  of  his  history ;  *  and  we  shall  freely  avail 
ourselves  of  the  materials,  which  have  been  thus 
collected,  in  connexion  with  such  as  have  been 
gained  from  other  sources,  in  attempting  to  present 
a  sketch  of  the  life  of  one,  who  stands  forward  as  a 
prominent  example  of  some  of  the  most  striking 
traits  of  the  genuine  American  character. 

ISRAEL  PUTNAM  was  born  at  Salem,  in  Massa 
chusetts,  on  the  7th  day  of  January,  1718.  His 
grandfather  with  two  brothers  emigrated  from  the 

• 

*«An  Essay  on  the  Life  of  Major-General  Israel  Put 
nam  ;  addressed  to  the  State  Society  of  the  Cincinnati 
m  Connecticut.  By  DAVID  HUMPHREYS." 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  107 

South  of  England,  and  was  one  of  the  earliest 
settlers  of  that  ancient  town.  His  father  was  a 
farmer,  and  the  son  was  destined  to  the  same 
pursuit,  for  which  no  great  extent  of  education 
was  then  believed  to  be  required.  The  arts  of 
reading,  writing,  and  a  tolerable  proficiency  in 
arithmetic,  were  the  only  attainments  to  be  ac 
quired  in  the  common  schools ;  and  the  higher  in 
stitutions,  or  "  the  schools  of  the  prophets,"  as 
they  were  called,  were  appropriated  to  the  candi 
dates  for  the  liberal  professions.  We  should  be 
slow  to  censure  our  ancestors  for  this,  before  we 
ascertain  how  far  the  state  of  the  fact  is  altered  at 
the  present  day ;  for  their  efforts  in  the  cause  of 
education,  considering  their  circumstances  and 
condition,  have  not  yet  been  excelled  by  any  of 
their  sons. 

It  is  plain,  then,  that  the  literary  advantages  of 
young  Putnam  could  not  be  very  great ;  and,  such 
as  they  were,  it  is  not  likely  that  this  species  of 
improvement  was  uppermost  in  his  mind.  His 
constitution  of  body  was  firm  and  vigorous ;  and 
he  early  displayed  that  insensibility  to  danger, 
which  was  so  strikingly  exhibited  in  his  subtequent 
career.  It  was  the  custom  of  the  young  men  of 
that  day  to  pursue  athletic  exercises,  of  which 
running,  leaping,  wrestling,  and  pitching  the  bar 
were  the  favorite  ones,  and  were  regarded  as  the 
surest  tests  of  strength  and  skill ;  and  in  these 


108  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

manly  sports,  which  have  fallen  of  late  inlo  almost 
entire  neglect,  young  Putnam  was  surpassed  by 
none  of  his  competitors.  But  the  research  of  his 
biographers  has  redeemed  from  oblivion  scarcely  a 
single  incident  in  the  youthful  history  of  one,  then 
quite  unknown  to  fame  ;  and  the  exploits  of  child 
hood  are  rarely  of  sufficient  moment  to  compen 
sate  for  the  labor  of  inquiry.  There  is  one, 
however,  characteristic  enough  to  deserve  a  pass 
ing  notice.  On  Putnam's  first  visit  to  Boston,  he 
was  treated  by  a  boy  of  the  metropolis  with  the 
sort  of  courtesy,  with  which  rustic  boys  are  not 
unfrequently  welcomed.  His  antagonist  was  twice 
as  old  and  large  as  himself;  but  he  requited  the 
attention  with  a  sound  beating,  to  the  entire  satis 
faction  of  a  numerous  body  of  spectators. 

In  the  twenty-first  year  of  his  age,  Mr.  Putnam 
was  united  in  marriage  to  the  daughter  of  Mr.  John 
Pope,  of  Salem.  After  her  death,  which  occurred 
in  1764,  he  married  a  Mrs.  Gardiner,  who  died  in 
1777.  About  the  time  of  his  first  marriage  he 
removed  to  Pomfret  in  Connecticut,  where  he 
purchased  a  tract  of  land,  and  entered  upon  the 
occupation  of  a  farmer.  At  first  he  met  with 
some  of  the  discouragements,  which  are  apt  to 
render  the  life  of  a  settler  a  school  of  no  gentle 
discipline ;  but  in  the  course  of  a  few  years  he 
became  an  enterprising  and  successful  cultivator, 
and  was  rewarded  by  a  fair  measure  of  prosper 


ISRAEL    PUTNAM.  109 

ity.  In  this  quiet  retreat  he  remained  till  the 
opening  of  the  Seven  Years'  War  presented  him 
with  a  broader  field  of  action. 

It  would  be  quite  unpardonable,  in  writing  the 
life  of  Putnam,  to  omit  to  notice  his  victory  over 
the  she-wolf,  at  Pomfret ;  the  story  of  which  is 
familiarly  known  to  every  schoolboy  in  the  coui> 
try,  and  is  very  minutely  detailed  by  his  principal 
biographer.  This  renowned  animal  had  for  some 
years  been  the  scourge  and  terror  of  the  farmers, 
whose  pursuit  of  her  had  been  altogether  fruitless  ; 
though  they  had  succeeded  in  destroying  her 
young,  whom  she  brought  in  winter  with  her 
from  the  forest,  to  bring  up  in  her  own  arts  of  ma 
rauding.  In  an  evil  hour  for  her  own  safety,  she 
made  an  onset  upon  Putnam's  farm-yard.  Seventy 
of  his  sheep  and  goats  were  killed,  and  many 
others  wounded,  in  the  course  of  a  single  night ; 
and  it  was  determined  to  resort  to  decisive  meas 
ures.  Several  of  the  farmers,  among  whom  was 
Putnam,  accordingly  entered  into  an  offensive  alli 
ance  against  the  common  enemy ;  the  condition  of 
the  compact  being,  that  the  pursuit  should  only 
cease  with  the  destruction  of  the  foe. 

Fortunately  her  track  was  easily  recognised,  a 
portion  of  one  of  her  feet  having  been  lost  by  an 
accidental  intimacy  with  a  trap.  Her  pursuers 
were  thus  enabled  to  trace  her  course  to  Connecti 
cut  River,  and  thence  back  again  to  Pomfret, 


110  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY 

where  she  took  refuge  in  a  cavern,  near  the  resi 
dence  of  Putnam.  The  place  was  selected  with 
great  judgment  to  withstand  a  siege  ;  as  very  few 
persons  beside  Putnam  himself  could  have  been 
persuaded  to  reconnoitre  the  position  of  its  inmate. 
It  is  entered  by  an  aperture  about  two  feet  square, 
on  the  side  of  a  huge  ledge  of  rock.  The  path 
way  descends  fifteen  feet  obliquely  from  the  en 
trance,  then  pursues  a  horizontal  direction  for  ten 
feet,  and  thence  ascends  gradually  about  fifteen 
feet  to  its  extremity ;  being  in  no  part  wider  than 
three  feet,  nor  high  enough  to  permit  a  man  to 
stand  upright.  The  access  to  the  interior  is  ren 
dered  very  difficult  in  winter,  by  the  accumulation 
of  ice  and  snow. 

No  time  was  lost  by  the  confederates  in  devising 
various  methods  of  attack.  A  competent  force  of 
dogs  was  collected,  with  such  munitions  as  were 
thought  suited  to  this  novel  warfare.  But  the 
hounds  that  entered  the  cave  retired  in  great  dis 
gust,  and  could  not  be  prevailed  on  to  repeat  the 
experiment ;  the  smoke  of  blazing  straw  was  inef 
fectual  ;  and  the  fumes  of  burning  brimstone, 
which  were  expected  to  prove  quite  irresistible, 
wasted  their  sweetness  in  vain.  This  system  of 
annoyance  was  continued  through  the  day,  until  a 
late  hour  in  the  evening,  when  Putnam,  weary  of 
the  unsuccessful  efforts,  endeavored  to  persuade 
his  negro  servant  to  go  into  the  cave ;  a  propo- 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  Ill 

sition  which  was  declined ;  and  his  master,  after 
somewhat  unreasonably  reproaching  him  with  cow 
ardice,  resolved,  against  the  earnest  remonstrance 
of  his  neighbors,  to  undertake  the  enterprise  him 
self. 

He  first  procured  some  birch  bark,  to  light  his 
way  and  intimidate  the  wolf  by  its  flame ;  then 
threw  aside  his  coat  and  vest;  and,  causing  a  rope 
to  be  secured  to  his  legs,  by  which  he  might  be 
drawn  out  at  a  concerted  signal,  set  fire  to  his 
torch  and  groped  his  way  into  the  cavern.  At 
the  extremity  he  saw  the  wolf,  who  welcomed  her 
unexpected  visitor  with  an  ominous  growl.  His 
examination  being  now  completed,  he  gave  the  ap 
pointed  signal ;  and  his  companions,  supposing 
from  the  sounds  within  that  the  case  must  be  an 
urgent  one,  drew  him  out  so  precipitately,  that  his 
clothes  were  torn  to  rags,  and  his  body  sorely 
lacerated. 

He  now  provided  himself  with  a  musket,  and 
bearing  it  in  one  hand  and  a  lighted  torch  in  the 
other,  proceeded  a  second  time  upon  his  perilous 
adventure  till  he  drew  near  the  wolf»  Just  as  she 
was  on  the  point  of  springing,  he  took  deliberate 
aim  and  fired ;  then,  stunned  by  the  explosion 
and  almost  suffocated  by  the  smoke,  he  was  again 
drawn  out  as  before.  After  a  brief  interval,  he 
entered  the  cavern  for  the  third  time,  applied  his 
torch  to  the  wolf's  nose  to  satisfy  himself  that  her 


112  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

repose  was  not  affected,  and,  seizing  her  by  the 
ears,  was  drawn  forth  with  his  prize,  to  the  infi 
nite  satisfaction  of  the  party. 

This  story  is  not  without  value,  as  an  illustra 
tion  of  its  hero's  character.  The  life  of  a  New 
England  farmer  is  not  usually  very  fruitful  of  ad 
venture  ;  nor  is  there  any  other  incident  on  record 
relating  to  Putnam  before  the  time,  when  he  ex 
changed  his  occupation  for  a  less  pacific  one.  One 
may  readily  conjecture,  that  the  tranquil  pursuits 
of  agriculture  could  hardly  satisfy  the  ambition  of 
a  spirit  like  his,  always  most  at  home  in  the  midst 
of  perilous  adventures ;  and  that  he  must  have 
exulted  in  the  opportunities  of  acquiring  fame  and 
honors,  which  wrere  afforded  by  the  opening  of 
the  great  French  war,  in  1754. 

The  causes  of  this  eventful  struggle  belong  too 
closely  to  the  province  of  history  to  be  required  to 
be  stated  here.  There  was  a  general  disposition 
among  the  people  to  prepare  for  some  decisive 
measures  in  the  following  spring.  It  was  with  this 
view,  that  the  memorable  plan  of  the  union  of  the 
Colonies  was»projected  and  matured ;  but  as  this, 
from  various  causes,  proved  ineffectual,  the  ar 
rangements  for  the  campaign  were  not  completed 
until  the  arrival  of  General  Braddock  in  this  coun 
try,  early  in  1755.  A  convention  of  the  several 
governors  was  held  at  his  suggestion  early  in  that 
year,  by  which  it  was  resolved  that  three  indepen 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  113 

dent  expeditions  should  be  undertaken.  The  first 
was  destined  against  Fort  Duquesne,  and  was  con 
ducted  by  General  Braddock  in  person  ;  the  sec 
ond,  at  the  head  of  which  was  Governor  Shirley, 
against  Forts  Niagara  and  Frontenac ;  and  the 
reduction  of  Crown  Point  was  the  object  of  the 
third,  which  was  composed  wholly  of  colonial 
troops,  under  the  command  of  Sir  William  John 
son.  A  body  of  troops  was  to  be  levied  in  Con 
necticut  to  serve  in  this  last  expedition,  and  the 
command  of  one  of  the  companies  composing  it 
was  bestowed  on  Mr.  Putnam.  His  personal  pop 
ularity  rendered  it  easy  for  him  to  obtain  the  best 
recruits,  and  the  regiment  with  which  he  was  con 
nected  joined  the  army,  near  Crown  Point,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  campaign. 

Throughout  the  war,  very  important  services 
were  rendered  by  the  various  corps,  distinguished 
by  the  name  of  Rangers.  They  acted  indepen 
dently  of  the  line  of  the  army,  and  were  employ 
ed  in  executing  many  perilous  duties ;  reconnoi 
tring  the  positions  of  the  enemy,  serving  in  the 
capacity '  of  guides,  surprising  detached  parties, 
and  obtaining  prisoners,  in  order  to  gain  intelli 
gence,  by  force  or  stratagem.  Among  the  other 
offices  they  were  expected  to  perform,  were  those 
of  destroying  the  houses,  barns,  barracks,  and  bat- 
teaux  of  the  French,  killing  their  cattle,  and  way 
laying  their  convoys  of  provisions.  They  ren- 

VOL.  VII.  8 


114  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

dered  the  most  valuable  aid  as  scouting  parties  to 
watch  the  movements  of  the  enemy,  of  which  no 
accurate  intelligence  could  be  procured  but  with 
the  greatest  hazard,  the  country  being  full  of  wan 
dering  and  hostile  Indians. 

It  is  obvious,  that  a  mode  of  life  like  this  re 
quired  the  utmost  prudence,  sagacity,  and  alert 
ness,  and  must  have  afforded  abundant  opportu 
nities  for  wild  and  difficult  adventure.  In  the 
Journals  *  of  Major  Rogers,  the  celebrated  New 

*  The  first  part  of  this  work,  which  purports  to  contain 
an  account  of  the  "several  excursions  made  by  the  au 
thor  under  the  generals  who  commanded  ftpon  the  con 
tinent  of  North  America  during  the  late  war,"  was 
printed  in  London  in  1765.  It  presents  rather  copious 
sketches  of  the  personal  services  of  the  writer,  though 
with  less  reference  to  the  general  operations  of  the  sev 
eral  campaigns,  than  the  reader  at  this  day  could  desire  ; 
but  it  is  by  no  means  destitute  of  interest ;  and  a  work 
can  hardly  be  regarded  as  a  fair  subject  of  criticism, 
which  was  written  "  not  with  science  and  leisure,  but 
in  deserts,  on  rocks  and  mountains,  amidst  the  hurries, 
disorders,  and  noise  of  war,  and  under  that  depression 
of  spirits,  which  is  the  natural  consequence  of  exhausting 
fatigue  "  Very  few  notices  are  to  be  found  in  it,  at  any 
length,  of  the  prominent  individuals,  who  acted  in  concert 
with  Major  Rogers ;  the  name  of  Putnam  is  rarely  men 
tioned,  and  never  with  any  comment  indicating  that  the 
least  importance  was  attached  by  the  author  to  his  ser 
vices  The  trifling  incident  of  the  preservation  of  his 
life  by  Putnam,  is  not  once  alluded  to. 

A  work,  published  in  1831,  in  Concord,  New  Hamp« 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  115 

Hampshire  partisan,  are  preserved  the  regulations 
drawn  up  by  himself  for  the  government  of  the 
Rangers  under  his  command ;  and  one  needs 
only  read  them  to  be  convinced,  that  it  was  a  ser 
vice  in  which  only  the  bold  and  resolute  could 
be  expected  to  engage.  We  are  not  informed 
whether  the  corps  of  Putnam  were  known  from  the 
outset  as  Rangers ;  it  is  very  probable  that  they 
were  so ;  as  they  were  employed  almost  exclusive 
ly  in  that  capacity,  and  appear  to  have  been  soon 
distinguished  by  that  name.  No  service  could 
have  been  better  suited  to  the  character  and  taste 
of  Putnam. 

The  campaign  of  1755,  though  distinguished 
by  the  stain  upon  the  British  arms  at  Braddock's 
overthrow,  and  the  victory  of  the  Provincials  over 
Dieskau  near  Lake  George,  was  not  a  long  one, 
and  afforded  less  than  usual  scope  for  the  exertions 
of  the  Rangers.  A  similarity  in  some  respects  of 

shire,  and  entitled  "  Reminiscences  of  the  French  War," 
purports  to  contain  among  other  matter,  this  Journal  of 
Rogers ;  but  the  editor,  without  apprizing  his  readers  of 
the  fact,  has  mutilated  the  original  in  a  very  remarka 
ble  manner.  Hardly  a  single  sentence  is  unaltered, 
and  it  is  quite  curious  to  compare  a  page  of  Rogers'  own 
composition  with  one  which  has  undergone  the  scalping- 
knifeofthe  New  Hampshire  editor.  We  doubt  whether 
the  proceeding  is  to  be  justified  under  any  circumstan 
ces  ;  but  it  becomes  unpardonable  when  it  is  attempted 
without  the  slightest  intimation  to  the  reader. 


116  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

character  and  disposition  produced  an  intimacy 
between  Putnam  and  Rogers  ;  and  they  frequently 
acted  in  concert  to  reconnoitre  the  positions  of  the 
enemy,  surprise  their  advanced  pickets,  and  ob 
tain  intelligence  of  their  purposes  and  movements. 
In  one  of  their  excursions,  it  was  the  fortune  of 
Putnam  to  preserve  the  life  of  Rogers.  Both 
these  officers  had  been  detached  with  a  party  of 
light  troops  from  Fort  Edward,  to  ascertain  the 
state  of  the  fortifications  at  Crown  Point.  To 
approach  them  with  their  whole  force  would  have 
made  it  difficult  to  guard  against  discovery,  while 
the  number  of  straggling  Indians  in  the  neighbor 
hood  rendered  it  scarcely  less  dangerous  to  advance 
without  support.  They,  however,  left  their  men 
concealed  behind  a  willow  thicket,  and  went  them 
selves  sufficiently  near  the  works  to  procure  the 
information  they  desired.  It  was  now  about  the 
hour  of  sunrise,  when  the  soldiers  began  to  issue 
in  such  numbers  from  the  fort,  that  the  partisans 
found  no  opportunity  to  rejoin  their  men  without 
detection.  In  the  course  of  an  hour  or  two,  a 
soldier  came  directly  to  the  spot  where  Rogers 
lay  concealed  at  a  little  distance  from  Putnam, 
and,  on  discovering  him,  called  for  aid  to  an  adja 
cent  guard,  attempting  at  the  same  time  to  seize 
Rogers's  fusee  with  one  hand,  and  to  stab  him 
with  a  dirk  which  he  held  in  the  other.  Putnam 
perceived  the  imminent  danger  of  his  associate, 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  117 

and,  being  unwilling  to  alarm  the  enemy  by  firing, 
ran  up,  and  struck  the  Frenchman  dead  before 
him  with  a  single  blow  from  his  fusee.  The  out 
cry  of  the  soldier  had  already  alarmed  the  guard  ; 
but  the  partisans  succeeded  in  rejoining  their 
troop,  and  in  returning  without  loss  to  their  en 
campment. 

By  the  terms  of  their  enlistment,  the  colonial 
troops  were  engaged  to  serve  only  during  the  cam 
paign  ;  but  the  commission  of  Captain  Putnam 
was  renewed,  and  he  entered  again  on  duty  in  the 
spring  of  1756.  The  general  military  operations 
of  this  year  were  less  fortunate  than  those  of  the 
preceding  one.  The  advantage  of  many  expen 
sive  and  laborious  preparations  was  wholly  lost  by 
the  inaction  of  the  British  generals.  Oswego,  an 
important  fortress,  was  captured  by  the  French, 
and  no  attempt  was  made  to  dispossess  them  of 
their  outpost  at  Ticonderoga.  A  very  different 
result  would  probably  have  been  exhibited,  had 
the  operations  of  the  army  been  conducted  by 
Provincial  officers,  who  were  thoroughly  conversant 
.  with  the  country,  and  the  foe  with  whom  they 
would  have  had  to  deal ;  points,  of  which  the 
British  generals  appear  to  have  been  profoundly 
ignorant.  It  is  a  relief  to  turn  from  the  detail  of 
their  misconduct,  to  the  personal  adventures  of  the 
more  deserving  officers,  who  acted  under  them. 

Captain   Putnam  was   directed   to  reconnoitre 


118  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

the  position  of  the  enemy  at  the  Ovens,  near  Ti- 
conderoga.  He  was  accompanied  in  this  enter 
prise  by  Lieutenant  Robert  Durkee,  a  gallant 
officer,  who  afterwards  encountered  the  severest 
fate,  under  which  humanity  can  ever  be  called  to 
suffer.*  The  two  partisans  proceeded  on  their 
way,  until  they  came  near  the  enemy.  It  was 
the  custom  of  the  British  and  Provincial  troops  to 
«et  fires  by  night  in  a  circle  round  their  camp. 
The  French,  on  the  contrary,  more  wisely  placed 
them  in  the  centre,  so  that  their  sentinels  were 
screened  from  observation  by  the  darkness. 

Putnam  and  Durkee  were  unfortunately  not 
aware  of  this  usage,  and  were  creeping  slowly  on 
their  hands  and  knees,  in  order  to  approach  the 
fires,  when  they  were  confounded  at  finding  them 
selves  in  the  midst  of  the  camp  of  the  enemy,  by 
whom  they  were  discovered  and  fired  upon.  Dur 
kee  received  a  bullet  in  his  thigh ;  but  there  was 
no  time  to  be  lost,  and  they  began  an  expeditious 
retreat.  Putnam  led  the  way,  and  in  a  few  min 
utes  fell  head  foremost  into  a  clay-pit,  followed 
by  Durkee,  who  had  kept  closely  at  his  heels.' 
Supposing  his  companion  in  the  pit  to  be  one  of 

*  He  was  an  officer  in  the  revolution.  At  the  battle 
of  Wyoming,  in  1778,  he  was  wounded  and  made  pris 
oner  by  the  Indians ;  by  whom  he  was  burned  at  the 
stake,  and  treated  during  his  expiring  moments  with  the 
most  savage  cruelty. 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  119 

the  pursuers,  Putnam  had  raised  his  arm  to  stab  him, 
when  he  recognised  Durkee's  voice.  Both  then 
rushed  from  their  retreat,  in  the  midst  of  a  shower 
of  random  bullets,  and  threw  themselves  behind  a 
log,  where  they  spent  the  remainder  of  the  night. 
On  examining  his  canteen,  Putnam  found  it 
pierced  with  balls,  and  its  contents  entirely  gone ; 
and  next  morning  at  day-light,  he  discovered  that 
his  blanket  was  sorely  rent  by  fourteen  bullet-holes. 

On  another  occasion,  a  convoy  of  baggage  and 
provisions  was  .intercepted  by  six  hundred  of  the 
enemy  at  Halfway  Brook,  between  Fort  Edward 
and  Lake  George.  The  plunderers  retreated  with 
'their  booty,  having  experienced  little  interruption 
from  the  troops,  by  which  the  convoy  was  escort 
ed.  When  the  news  of  this  disaster  was  received 
at  the  camp,  Captains  Putnam  and  Rogers  were 
ordered  in  pursuit.  They  were  directed  to  take 
with  them  one  hundred  men  in  boats,  furnished 
with  two  wall-pieces,  and  the  same  number  of 
blunderbusses.  With  these  they  were  to  proceed 
for  a  certain  distance  down  Lake  George,  and 
thence  over  land  to  the  Narrows,  to  cut  off  the 
enemy's  retreat. 

Shortly  after  they  had  reached  the  designated 
spot,  they  saw  from  their  place  of  concealment  the 
French  batteaux,  laden  with  the  plunder  of  the 
convoy,  sailing  into  the  Narrows,  entirely  unsus 
picious  of  danger.  They  await  in  silence  the 


120  AMERICAN    BIOGRAPHT. 

approach  of  the  batteaux ;  at  the  critical  moment, 
they  pour  upon  them  a  close  and  most  destructive 
fire  ;  many  of  the  boatmen  fall,  and  several  of  the 
batteaux  are  sunk.  A  strong  wind  sweeps  the 
remainder  with  great  rapidity  through  the  passage 
into  South  Bay,  or  the  destruction  would  have 
been  complete.  They  carry  to  Ticonderoga  the 
news  of  their  disaster,  and  a  detachment  is  instantly 
sent  to  intercept  the  Provincials  ;  who,  anticipating 
such  a  movement,  have  in  the  mean  time  hurried 
to  their  boats,  which  they  reach  before  the  close 
of  day. 

Next  morning  they  set  sail,  and,  at  Sabbath- 
day  Point,  meet  the  detachment  of  the  French,' 
consisting  of  three  hundred  men,  advancing  in  boats 
with  the  expectation  of  an  easy  victory.  Not  a 
musket  is  discharged  until  they  come  within  pistol 
shot ;  then  the  enemy  are  thrown  at  once  into 
confusion  by  the  artillery,  aided  by  a  close  fire  of 
musketry.  The  carnage  becomes  dreadful ;  of 
twenty  Indians  in  one  of  the  canoes,  fifteen  are 
killed,  and  very  many  are  seen  to  fall  overboard 
from  others  •  while,  on  the  side  of  the  Provincials, 
only  one  is  killed  and  two  others  are  wounded. 
No  farther  attempt  is  made  to  obstruct  the  retreat 
of  the  Provincials,  who  return  in  safety  to  the 
camp. 

Late  in  the  same  season,  General  Webb,  who 
commanded  at   Fort  Edward,   sent   out  Captain 


ISRAEL,     PUTNAM.  121 

Putnam  to  procure  a  prisoner ;  the  usual  and  very 
compendious  method  of  learning  on  the  best  au 
thority  the  motions  of  the  enemy.  He  concealed 
his  men  near  the  highway  leading  from  Ticonde- 
roga  to  the  Ovens  ;  but  these  valiant  gentlemen 
thought  fit  to  ascribe  his  caution  to  the  influence 
of  fear,  and,  as  there  was  no  enemy  in  sight, 
were  with  much  difficulty  induced  to  remain  un 
der  shelter.  Presently  an  Indian  passed  by,  and 
at  a  little  distance  behind  him  a  Frenchman  ;  and 
Putnam,  calling  on  his  men  to  follow,  sprang  to 
seize  upon  the  latter,  overtook  him  and  ordered 
him  to  surrender.  His  men  were  now  convinced 
of  the  advantage  of  concealment,  and  disregarded 
his  order ;  and,  as  Putnam  was  the  only  person  in 
view,  his  intended  captive  preferred  to  run  the 
hazard  of  resisting  him.  Putnam  levelled  his 
piece,  but  it  missed  fire,  and  he  retreated  followed 
by  the  Frenchman,  in  the  direction  where  his  men 
were  posted ;  but  the  other,  falling  on  this  unex 
pected  ambuscade,  changed  his  course  without 
dela/,  and  effected  his  escape.  The  men, 
whose  conduct  had  been  thus  discreditable,  were 
dismissed  with  disgrace  ;  and  Putnam  soon  ac 
complished  his  object  with  other  aid.  The  in 
cident  is  worthy  of  relation,  only  as  it  shows  the 
nature  of  the  tasks  imposed  upon  an  active  parti 
san,  and  the  hazard  to  be  encountered  m  per 
forming  them. 

VII. — K 


122  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

The  character  and  services  of  Putnam  had  now 
Become  generally  known ;  he  was  found  to  unite 
with  a  total  insensibility  to  danger,  a  caution  and 
sagacity,  which  gave  him  the  command  of  his 
resources  at  the  moment  when  they  were  most 
required.  Nor  could  any  service  be  better  adapt 
ed  to  the  exhibition  of  these  qualities,  than  that 
•n  which  he  was  engaged ;  though  it  was  unfor 
tunately  in  a  sphere  too  limited,  to  secure  for 
him  a  place  in  history.  He  was  endeared  to  the 
soldiers  by  the  cheerfulness  with  which  he  shared 
their  perils  and  privations,  and  the  gallantry,  which 
suffered  none  to  go  where  he  did  not  himself 
lead  the  way ;  to  his  superior  officers,  by  the  en 
ergy  and  promptness  with  which  he  executed  their 
commands ;  and  he  began  to  rise  in  the  esteem 
of  the  public  generally,  as  one  who  was  destined 
to  bcotftiic  distinguished  in  a  broader  field  of  ac 
tion 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  123 

' 

CHAPTER  II. 

Rai&ed  to  the  Rank  of  Major.  —  Various  Ad 
ventures  in  the  War.  —  Capture  of  Fort  Wil 
liam  Henry.  —  Putnam  stationed  near  Fort 
Edward.  —  Encounters  the  Enemy  at  South 
Bay.  —  Expedition  against  Ticonderoga.  — 
Death  of  Lord  Howe. 

IN  1757,  the  legislature  of  Connecticut  con 
ferred  on  Putnam  the  commission  of  a  major. 
The  Earl  of  Loudoun,  one  of  the  most  incompetent 
British  generals  who  had  commanded  in  the  colo 
nies,  was  then  at  the  head  of  the  military  forces  in 
this  country.  He  had  arrived  at  Albany  in  the 
summer  of  the  preceding  year ;  but  the  capture  of 
Oswego  by  the  French  had  induced  him  to  sus 
pend  offensive  operations,  and  to  think  only  of 
guarding  against  further  loss.  By  the  next  spring, 
the  generous  efforts  of  the  colonists  enabled  him 
to  take  the  field  with  a  numerous  and  effective 
force  ;  and  it  was  expected,  not  without  reason,  that 
he  should  open  the  campaign  in  the  direction  of 
Canada  with  some  decisive  blow.  But  the  people 
were  not  yet  fully  acquainted  with  the  character 
of  their  military  chief.  About  midsummer,  they 
were  somewhat  surprised  to  learn  that  be  had 


124  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

sailed  for  Halifax  with  six  thousand  of  his  troops. 
It  was  his  intention  there  to  join  a  reinforcement 
of  five  thousand  men,  who  had  lately  arrived  from 
England  under  the  command  of  Lord  Howe,  and 
to  attempt  the  reduction  of  Louisburg  in  Cape 
Breton ;  but,  learning  that  the  garrison  of  that 
place  had  been  augmented  by  an  armament  from 
France,  he  returned  to  New  York  and  reposed 
upon  his  laurels. 

While  the  British  commander  was  prosecuting 
his  voyage  of  discovery,  the  condition  of  Fort 
William  Henry,  then  a  frontier  post,  was  such  as 
to  invite  the  assault  of  the  enemy.  This  ill-fated 
fortress,  the  name  of  which  still  awakens  melan 
choly  recollections,  was  situated  at  the  southwest 
ern  extremity  of  Lake  George.  It  was  a  structure 
of  no  great  strength,  on  a  small  eminence,  which 
rose  gradually  from  the  waters  of  the  lake.  Its 
garrison  at  this  time  consisted  of  about  three 
thousand  men  ;  and,  as  an  additional  security,  Gen 
eral  Webb  was  stationed  about  fifteen  miles  distant 
at  Fort  Edward,  with  a  force  considerably  larger. 

The  Marquis  de  Montcalm,  the  French  com 
mander,  having  collected  about  eight  or  nine  thou 
sand  men,  including  a  large  body  of  Indians,  ap 
peared  before  Fort  William  Henry  on  the  third 
of  August,  with  a  summons  to  surrender.     In  his 
letter  to  the  commanding  officer  of  the  garrison,  he 
urged  the  capitulation  by  considerations  of  human- 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  125 

ity,  declaring  that  his  power  to  restrain  the  In 
dians  would  be  lost,  after  the  blood  of  any  of  them 
should  be  shed.  No  written  answer  was  given  to 
the  summons ;  a  verbal  reply  was  returned  by  the 
bearer,  that  the  fort  would  be  defended  to  the 

ast  extremity. 

Another  sad  illustration  was  yet  to  be  afforded 
jf  the  incapacity  of  generals,  and  a  still  more 
melancholy  one  of  the  atrocities  of  savage  war 
fare.  Just  before  the  siege  began,  General  Webb, 
accompanied  by  Major  Putnam  and  two  hundred 
men,  went  to  Fort  William  Henry,  to  ascertain 
the  state  of  its  defences.  While  the  General  was 
thus  engaged,  Major  Putnam  offered  to  go  with 
five  men  to  Northwest  Bay,  sending  back  the 
boats  to  prevent  detection,  and  obtain  accurate 
information  respecting  the  situation  of  the  French 
at  Ticonderoga. 

This  proposition  was  rejected  as  too  hazardous. 
He  was,  however,  permitted  to  undertake  the  en 
terprise,  with  eighteen  volunteers.  They  imme 
diately  embarked  in  three  whale-boats,  and  set 
forward  on  their  expedition.  Before  they  arrived 
at  Northwest  Bay,  a  large  body  of  the  enemy  was 
discovered  on  an  island.  Leaving  two  of  his  boats, 
as  if  for  the  purpose  of  fishing,  Putnam  returned 
with  the  remaining  one  to  communicate  what  he 
nad  seen.  The  general,  whose  valor  was  his 

east  shining  accomplishment,    seeing  the   Major 


126  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

make  for  the  land  with  his  force  thus  reduced,  de 
spatched  a  skiff  to  him  with  orders  to  come  to 
the  shore  alone. 

With  some  difficulty,  he  obtained  permission  to 
return  in  quest  of  his  companions,  and  to  make 
additional  discoveries.  He  found  his  men  in  the 
place  where  he  had  left  them,  and  immediately 
after  encountered  a  large  number  of  boats  in  mo 
tion  on  the  lake,  from  the  foremost  of  which  he 
was  enabled  to  escape  only  by  the  superior  fleet- 
ness  of  his  own.  There  was  no  longer  any  room 
for  doubt,  that  this  armament  was  destined  against 
Fort  William  Henry ;  and  Putnam  so  informed 
the  General,  who  ordered  him  to  preserve  strict 
silence  on  the  subject,  and  to  exact  an  oath  of  se 
crecy  from  his  men. 

In  vain  he  endeavored  to  urge  the  necessity 
of  meeting  the  enemy  on  the  shore.  "  What 
do  you  think  we  should  do  here  ? "  was  the  dis 
creet  reply.  Next  morning,  the  general  return 
ed  with  his  escort  to  Fort  Edward,  and  detached 
a  reinforcement  to  Fort  William  Henry.  In 
twenty-four  hours  afterwards,  the  fortress  was  in 
vested  by  the  enemy. 

During  six  days  was  it  defended  against  a  fai 
superior  force,  provided  with  artillery.  Express 
after  express  was  in  the  mean  time  sent  to  Fort 
Edward  for  relief;  but,  though  the  force  of  Webb 
had  been  increased  by  the  addition  of  Johnson's 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  127 

troops  and  the  militia,  he  made  not  the  slightest 
effort  to  avert  its  fate.  Once,  indeed,  he  yielded 
to  the  solicitations  of  Sir  William  Johnson,  and 
permitted  those,  who  would  volunteer  in  the  ser 
vice,  to  march  for  its  relief.  The  privilege  was 
eagerly  embraced  by  the  Provincials,  including 
Putnam's  Rangers ;  but  scarcely  had  they  begun 
their  march,  when  the  general's  heart  failed  him, 
and  they  were  ordered  back.  They  returned 
with  tears  of  indignation  and  sorrow. 

General  Webb  believed  his  duty  sufficiently  dis 
charged  when  he  wrote  to  Colonel  Munroe,  the 
commander  of  the  fort,  advising  him  to  surrender ; 
and  it  is  a  striking  example  of  the  danger  of  pusil 
lanimity,  that  the  indecision  of  this  strangely  inef 
ficient  personage  was  the  d:rect  cause  of  the  sub 
sequent  disaster.  When  Putnam  was  a  prisoner 
in  Canada,  he  was  assured  by  Montcalm  himself, 
that  the  movement  of  the  Provincials  from  Fort 
Edward  had  been  reported  to  him  by  his  Indian 
scouts,  who  represented  them  to  be  as  numerous 
as  the  leaves  upon  the  trees ;  that  the  operations 
of  the  siege  were  suspended,  and  preparations  for 
retreat  were  immediately  made,  when  the  news  of 
their  return  encouraged  him  to  persevere  with 
greater  vigor. 

All  expectations  of  relief  were  now  at  an  end ; 
two  of  the  largest  guns  of  the  fort  had  burst,  and 
further  resistance  must  be  obviously  unavailing ; 


128  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

articles  of  capitulation  were  therefore  signed,  by 
which  protection  against  the  Indians  was  pledged 
to  the  garrison,  and  they  were  to  be  permitted  to 
march  forth  with  the  honors  of  war. 

The  event  which  followed,  and  which  was  long 
known  throughout  the  continent  as  the  Massacre 
of  Fort  William  Henry,  can  hardly  be  recited  now 
without  a  thrill  of  horror.  The  troops  began  their 
march  from  the  fortress.  Just  as  the  rear-guard 
issued  from  the  gates,  the  whole  body  of  the  Indians 
fell  upon  them  with  the  utmost  fury,  slaughtering 
them  in  cold  blood.  Great  numbers  were  killed, 
and  others  were  taken  prisoners.  No  efforts  were 
made  by  the  French  to  put  an  end  to  these  atro 
cities  ;  no  protection,  demanded  alike  by  honor 
and  humanity,  was  given,  until  only  a  miserable  • 
remnant  of  the  garrison  was  left. 

Early  the  next  day,  Putnam,  who  had  been 
sent  out  with  his  Rangers  to  watch  the  movements 
of  the  enemy,  reached  the  scene  of  carnage,  just 
as  the  rear-guard  of  the  French  were  embarking 
on  the  lake.  The  barracks  were  still  burning,  and 
hundreds  of  human  bodies  lay  half-consumed  among 
the  ruins.  Those  of  more  than  one  hundred 
women  were  scattered  around,  torn  and  mutilated 
in  a  manner  which  no  language  is  adequate  to  teli. 
One  may  conceive  with  what  feelings  the  generous 
and  warm-hearted  soldier  must  have  looked  upon 
a  scene  like  this.  As  we  read  the  dark  and  bloody 


ISRAEL    PUTNAM. 

tale,  we  almost  pardon  the  stern  vengeance  with 
which  our  fathers  strove  to  crush  so  merciless  a 
foe  ;  but  what  a  picture  does  it  give  of  modern 
civilization,  that  the  most  enlightened  nations  hesi 
tated  not  to  employ  these  demons  as  the  instru 
ments  of  war  ? 

General  Lyman  soon  after  this  took  the  com 
mand  at  Fort  Edward,  and  labored  to  strengthen 
its  defences.  With  this  view  he  employed  a  party 
of  one  hundred  and  fifty  men  to  procure  timber  in 
its  neighborhood,  and  stationed  Captain  Little  at 
the  head  of  a  morass,  about  a  hundred  rods  east 
ward  from  the  fort,  to  cover  them.  This  post  was 
connected  with  the  fort  by  a  tongue  of  land,  on 
one  side  of  which  was  a  creek,  and  the  morass 
extended  on  the  other.  One  morning  at  day 
break,  a  sentinel  saw  what  he  imagined  to  be 
birds,  flying  swiftly  from  the  morass  over  his  head ; 
but  he  was  enlightened  as  to  the  true  genus  of 
these  feathered  messengers,  when  he  saw  an  ar 
row  quivering  in  a  tree,  just  by  him.  A  body  of 
savages  had  concealed  themselves  in  the  morass  in 
the  hope  of  surprising  the  party,  and  had  resorted 
to  this  noiseless  method  of  despatching  the  sen 
tinel. 

The  alarm  was  instantly  given  ;  the  laborers 
fled  towards  the  fort,  and  were  furiously  attacked 
by  the  Indians ;  but  their  progress  was  arrested  by 
the  close  and  seasonable  fire,  of  Little's  party, 

VOL.  VII. L  9 


130  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

which  enabled  such  of  the  fugitives  as  were  nol 
wounded  to  reach  the  fort  in  safety.  The  situa 
tion  of  the  small  band,  pressed  as  they  were  by  an 
overwhelming  force,  became  very  precarious  ;  but 
the  commander  of  the  fort,  instead  of  sending  a 
detachment  to  their  aid,  ordered  all  the  outposts  to 
be  called  in  and  the  gates  to  be  closed. 

Putnam  was  stationed  with  his  Rangers  on  an 
island,  near  the  fort,  where  intelligence  soon 
reached  him  of  the  peril  of  Little  and  his  party. 
Without  the  hesitation  of  an  instant,  they  dashed 
into  the  water,  and  waded  as  rapidly  as  they  could 
to  the  scene  of  action.  On  their  way  they  passed 
so  near  the  fort,  that  General  Lyman  called  to 
them  from  the  parapet,  and  ordered  them  per 
emptorily  to  return ;  but  Putnam  made  a  brief 
apology,  and,  without  waiting  to  ascertain  whether 
it  was  satisfactory,  hurried  on  with  his  men. 

In  a  few  minutes  they  were  at  the  side  of  the 
little  band  of  regulars,  who  gallantly  maintained 
their  ground ;  then,  at  the  command  of  Putnam, 
they  rushed  with  loud  huzzas  upon  the  savages 
directly  into  the  morass.  The  charge  was  com 
pletely  successful ;  the  Indians  fled  in  every  direc 
tion,  and  were  pursued  with  great  slaughter  until 
night-fall.  Colonel  Humphreys  remarks,  that  all 
is  not  right  in  the  military  system,  when  the  orders 
of  superior  officers  are  disregarded  with  impunity, 
and  intimates  that  Putnam  should  have  been  sub- 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.-  131 

jected  to  the  discipline  of  a  court-martial.  Noth 
ing  of  the  kind,  however,  appears  to  have  been 
attempted  ;  the  general  was  probably  content  with 
the  result,  and  cared  not  that  his  own  conduct 
should  be  contrasted  with  that  of  those,  who  served 
him  contrary  to  his  will. 

In  the  winter  of  this  year,  the  barracks  adjacent 
to  the  northwestern  bastion  of  Fort  Edward  acci 
dentally  took  fire.  Within  twelve  feet  of  them 
stood  the  magazine,  containing  three  hundred  bar 
rels  of  powder.  By  the  orders  of  Colonel  Haviland, 
who  then  commanded  at  this  post,  some  heavy 
pieces  of  artillery  were  brought  to  bear  upon  the 
barracks,  to  batter  them  to  the  ground,  but  without 
success.  Putnam  reached  the  fort  from  his  station 
on  the  island,  while  the  flames  were  spreading 
fiercely  in  the  direction  of  the  magazine,  and  took 
his  post  on  the  roof  of  the  barrack,  as  nearly  as 
possible  to  the  blaze.  A  line  of  soldiers  was  formed 
through  a  postern  to  the  river,  from  which  watei 
was  conveyed  to  Putnam,  who  threw  it  on  the  fire, 
standing  all  the  while  so  near  it,  that  his  mittens 
were  burned  from  his  hands.  He  was  supplied 
with  another  pair  soaked  in  water,  and  kept  his 
post. 

Colonel  Haviland,  considering  his  situation  to 
be  too  dangerous,  urged  him  to  descend ;  but  he 
replied  that  a  suspension  of  his  efforts  would  be 
fatal,  and  entreated  to  be  suffered  to  remain  ;  and 


132  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

the  colonel,  encouraged  by  his  intrepidity,  gave 
orders  that  nothing  more  should  be  removed  from 
the  fort,  exclaiming,  that  if  they  must  perish,  all 
should  be  blown  up  together.  The  barracks  be 
gan  to  totter ;  Putnam  came  down  and  took  his 
station  between  them  and  the  magazine  ;  the  ex 
ternal  planks  of  this  building  were  consumed,  and 
there  remained  only  a  partition  of  timber  between 
the  powder  and  the  flames ;  still  he  refused  to 
quit  his  post,  and  continued  pouring  on  the  water 
until  the  fire  was  happily  subdued. 

He  had  contended  with  the  flames  for  an  hour 
and  a  half;  his  face,  his  hands,  and  almost  his 
whole  body  were  blistered ;  and,  in  removing  the 
mittens  from  his  hands,  the  skin  was  torn  off  with 
th^m.  Several  weeks  elapsed,  before  he  recov 
ered  from  the  effects  of  the  exposure ;  but  he  was 
rewarded  by  the  earnest  thanks  of  his  commander, 
and  by  the  consciousness  that,  but  for  him,  the 
fortress  must  have  been  in  ruins. 

A  brighter  day  began  to  dawn  upon  the  British 
arms  in  every  quarter  of  the  country,  but  the 
neighborhood  of  Lake  George  and  Lake  Cham- 
plain.  There,  the  same  fortunes  whicn  had  hitherto 
attended  them  underwent  no  immediate  change. 
The  popular  voice  had  overborne  the  royal  will, 
and  had  compelled  George  the  Second  to  receive 
Mr.  Pitt  as  his  prime  minister.  The  name  of 
this  great  man  is  more  closely  associated  with 


ISRAEL,     PUTNAM.  133 

commanding  energy  of  character,  than  any  other 
in  the  history  of  England ;  it  made,  as,  in  the  elo 
quent  language  of  Burke,  it  kept  the  name  of 
his  country  respectable  in  every  other  on  the 
globe.  Nowhere  was  that  name  held  in  greater 
respect,  and  nowhere  did  it  inspire  more  confi 
dence,  than  in  America. 

He  assumed  the  direction  of  affairs  in  the  sum 
mer  of  1757 ;  and  his  attention  was  at  once 
directed  to  the  conduct  of  the  war  in  this  coun 
try.  The  colonies,  justly  appreciating  his  vigor 
and  talent,  renewed  their  generous  but  exhausting 
efforts  to  recruit  the  army  for  the  next  campaign  ; 
and  the  extent  of  their  exertions  can  only  be  un 
derstood,  when  it  is  considered  that  fifteen  thou 
sand  men  were  supplied  by  Connecticut,  Massa 
chusetts,  and  New  Hampshire,  at  a  time  when  the 
resources  of  all  were  hardly  equal  to  those  of 
any  one  of  them  now. 

Three  expeditions  were  proposed  to  be  under 
taken  ;  Louisburg  was  the  destination  of  the  first, 
Fort  Duquesne  of  the  second,  and  Crown  Point 
and  Ticonderoga  of  the  third.  The  results  of  the 
two  first  are  sufficiently  well  known ;  the  course  of 
our  narrative  will  lead  us  into  some  detail  respect 
ing  the  last.  Not  even  the  ability  of  Pitt  could 
immediately  turn  the  current  of  adverse  fortune, 
which  had  been  flowing  with  so  little  interruption 
in  the  region,  where  the  scene  of  our  story  has 
thus  far  been  laid. 


134  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

General  Abercromby,  who  now  assumed  the 
chief  command  in  this  department,  ordered  Major 
Putnam  to  proceed  with  fifty  men  to  South  Bay 
in  Lake  George,  in  order  to  watch  the  motions  of 
the  enemy,  and  intercept  their  straggling  parties. 
The  detachment  marched  to  Wood  Creek,  near 
the  point  where  it  flows  into  South  Bay  ;  there,  in 
obedience  to  Putnam's  directions,  they  constructed 
a  parapet  of  stone,  thirty  feet  in  length,  on  a  cliff 
that  overhangs  the  water  ;  securing  it  from  obser 
vation  by  young  pines,  so  disposed  that  they  ap 
peared  to  have  grown  upon  the  spot.  Fifteen  of 
the  soldiers,  who  became  unfit  for  duty,  were  sent 
back  from  this  station  to  the  camp. 

Late  in  the  evening  of  the  fourth  day  since  he 
occupied  the  post,  Major  Putnam  was  informed 
that  a  large  number  of  canoes,  filled  with  men,  were 
slowly  entering  the  mouth  of  the  creek.  All  the 
sentinels  were  called  in,  and  each  man  was  sta 
tioned  at  the  point  where  his  fire  would  be  most 
effective,  receiving  positive  orders  from  Putnam 
to  reserve  it,  until  he  should  give  the  word.  The 
moon  was  at  the  full,  and  every  movement  of  the 
enemy  was  perfectly  in  view.  The  most  advanced 
canoes  had  passed  the  parapet,  when  a  soldier  acci 
dentally  struck  his  firelock  against  a  stone.  Alarm 
ed  at  the  sound,  those  in  the  foremost  canoes 
ceased  to  advance,  and  the  whole  were  crowded 
in  a  body  at  the  very  base  of  the  temporary  forti- 


ISKAEL     PUTNAM. 

fication.      The    leaders   consulted    together,   and 
apparently  resolved  to  return  into  the  Bay. 

Just  as  they  were  changing  their  course,  Put 
nam  gave  the  word  to  fire,  and  it  was  obeyed 
with  terrible  effect ;  hardly  a  shot  failed  to  find  its 
victim,  amidst  the  dense  mass  of  the  enemy  be 
neath,  whose  fire  was  wasted  on  an  invisible  foe. 
The  carnage  had  continued  for  some  time,  when 
the  enemy,  perceiving  from  the  fire  that  the  num 
ber  of  their  assailants  must  be  small,  detached  a 
party  to  land  below  in  order  to  surround  them ; 
but  the  movement  had  been  watched  by  Putnam, 
and  the  party  was  repulsed  by  twelve  men,  under 
the  command  of  Lieutenant  Durkee.  During  the 
whole  night  were  the  enemy  exposed  to  the  mur 
derous  fire  from  the  parapet.  At  day-break,  Put 
nam  learned  that  a  detachment  had  effected  a 
landing  at  some  distance  below ;  his  ammunition 
also  began  to  fail,  and  he  gave  the  order  to  retreat. 

It  was  afterwards  ascertained,  that  the  enemy 
consisted  of  a  corps  of  five  hundred  men,  com 
manded  by  the  well-known  partisan  Molang ;  and 
that  more  than  half  their  number  perished  on 
that  fatal  night.  Two  only  of  Putnam's  little 
band  were  wounded ;  they  were  ordered  to  the 
camp  under  the  escort  of  two  other  soldiers,  but 
were  pursued  and  overtaken  by  the  Indians.  Find 
ing  their  own  fate  inevitable,  they  persuaded  their 
escort  to  leave  them,  and  quietly  awaited  the 


136  AMERICAN    BIOGRAPHY. 

approach  of  the  foe.  One  of  them,  a  provincial, 
whose  thigh  had  been  broken  by  a  bullet,  killed 
three  of  the  savages  by  a  single  discharge  of  his 
musket.  He  was  instantly  put  to  death  ;  but  the 
other,  an  Indian,  was  made  prisoner,  and  related 
these  circumstances  afterwards  to  Putnam,  who 
encountered  him  in  Canada. 

While  the  party  were  effecting  their  retreat, 
they  were  fired  on  by  an  unexpected  enemy. 
Putnam,  who  was  never  disconcerted,  ordered  his 
men  to  charge,  when  the  leader  of  the  other  party, 
recognising  his  voice,  cried  out  that  they  were 
friends.  Friends  or  foes,  replied  Putnam,  they  de 
served  to  perish  for  doing  so  little  execution  with 
so  fair  a  shot ;  only  one  man  had  been  wounded 
by  the  6re.  Soon  after,  they  were  met  by  a  corps 
detached  to  cover  their  retreat,  and  regained  the 
fort  on  the  following  day. 

The  expedition  against  Ticonderoga,  which  has 
been  already  mentioned,  was  led  by  General 
Abercromby  in  person.  His  force  consisted  of  six 
teen  thousand  men,  amply  provided  with  artillery 
and  military  stores.  On  the  morning  of  the  5th 
of  July,  175S,  they  were  embarked  in  batteaux, 
and  began  to  descend  Lake  George,  the  whole 
array  presenting  a  brilliant  and  imposing  specta 
cle.  They  reached  Sabbath-day  Point  at  evening 
Here  they  halted  for  a  few  hours,  and  then  re 
sumed  their  voyage,  Lord  Howe  leading  the  van. 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  137 

An  officer,  who  had  been  sent  to  ascertain 
whether  the  proposed  landing-place  was  unobstruct 
ed,  returned  at  day-break  with  the  information,  that 
it  was  in  possession  of  the  enemy.  Another  place 
of  landing  was  selected,  and  the  troops  were  dis 
embarked  at  mid-day  on  the  6th  of  July.  Rogers 
advanced  with  his  Rangers  and  drove  the  enemy 
before  him,  and  the  columns  of  the  army  began 
their  march.  Lord  Howe  led  the  centre,  and 
Putnam  was  at  his  side.  Some  musketry  was 
heard  upon  the  left.  "  What  means  this  firing  ?  " 
said  Lord  Howe.  "I  know  not,  but  with  your 
Lordship's  leave  will  ascertain,"  replied  Putnam. 
He  went,  accompanied,  in  opposition  to  his  earnest 
remonstrances,  by  Lord  Howe  with  one  hundred 
of  the  van.  The  firing  proceeded  from  a  portion 
of  the  advanced  guard  of  the  enemy,  who  had  lost 
their  way  in  the  woods,  while  retreating  before 
Rogers.  They  were  soon  encountered ;  and,  at 
their  first  discharge,  Lord  Howe  fell. 

No  heavier  loss  could  well  have  been  sustained. 
This  young  nobleman  was  in  the  prime  of  man 
hood,  of  fine  address,  full  of  amiable  qualities, 
and  eminent  for  manly  virtue ;  his  military  fame 
was  already  high,  and  presented  the  most  bril 
liant  promise  for  the  future.  Never  was  a  British 
officer  so  much  endeared  to  the  Provincial  troops, 
or  enjoyed  more  of  the  general  esteem  and  con 
fidence.  He  was  regretted  equally  for  what 


138  AMERIJ^N     BIOGRAPHY. 


he  was,  and  what  he  was  expected  to  become , 
but  the  man,  over  whom  the  tears  of  a  people 
are  shed,  cannot  be  said  to  have  descended  imma- 
turely  to  the  tomb. 

His  death  was  avenged  by  his  troops,  who 
charged  the  enemy,  and  drove  them  from  the 
field.  Having  accomplished  this,  they  were  return 
ing  to  the  lines,  when  they  were  fired  upon,  on 
the  supposition  that  they  were  of  the  French  ar 
my.  Several  men  were  killed  ;  nor  was  the  danger 
averted,  until  Putnam  ran  through  the  midst  of  the 
fire,  explained  the  mistake,  and  thus  secured  his 
men  from  farther  injury.  He  remained  himself 
upon  the  field  until  evening,  attending  to  the 
wounded  French,  and  providing  them  with  such 
alleviations  as  he  had  it  in  his  power  to  bestow.* 

"  The  fall  of  Lord  Howe,"  says  Rogers  in  his 
Journal,  "  appeared  to  produce  an  almost  general 
consternation  and  languor."  Certain  it  is,  that 
from  that  hour  the  enterprise  wholly  ceased  to 
prosper.  No  progress  was  made  during  the  next 

•Colonel  Humphreys  assures  us,  in  his  Life  of  Put 
nam,  that  Major  Rogers  was  sent  next  morning  to  bring 
off  the  wounded  prisoners  ;  "  hut,  finding  the  wounded 
unable  to  help  themselves,  in  order  to  save  trouble,  he 
despatched  every  one  of  them  to  the  world  of  spirits." 
We  have  no  means  of  contradicting  or  confirming  a 
story,  which  every  reader  would  be  glad  to  believe 
unfounded 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM. 

day ;  but  the  principal  engineer  was  sent  forward 
to  examine  the  defences  of  Ticonderoga ;  he  re 
ported  in  favor  of  hazarding  an  attack  without 
waiting  to  bring  up  the  artillery,  and  the  prepara 
tions  were  immediately  made.  This  fortress  stood 
on  a  peninsula  in  Lake  Champlain,  very  near  the 
shore ;  and  the  French  lines,  which  were  defend 
ed  by  two  redoubts  and  strong  abatis,  extended 
across  the  neck  of  the  peninsula. 

The  garrison  at  this  time  consisted  of  six  thou 
sand  men ;  three  thousand  more,  who  had  been 
detached  to  the  Mohawk  river,  were  hourly  ex 
pected  to  return.  On  the  morning  of  the  8th  of 
July,  the  British  troops  advanced  to  the  attack 
'over  a  tract  swept  by  the  deadly  fire  of  a  sheltered 
enemy ;  and  were  shot  down  by  hundreds  as 
they  rushed  forward  to  the  abatis,  and  vainly  la 
bored  to  remove  this  fatal  obstacle.  Three  times 
in  the  course  of  four  hours,  did  they  assault  the 
works  with  unyielding  resolution ;  but  their  gal 
lantry  was  wholly  unavailing,  and  their  officers  at 
last  put  an  end  to  this  wanton  sacrifice  of  life,  and 
ordered  them  to  retire. 

About  two  thousand  of  the  assailants  perished  in 
this  rash  attack,  during  the  whole  progress  of  which 
General  Abercromby  remained  in  safety  two  miles 
from  the  scene  of  action.  Not  a  single  piece  of 
artillery  was  ordered  up,  and  the  assault  was  made 
precisely  in  the  spot  where  the  lines  were  best 


140  AMERICAN    BIOGRAPHY. 

defended.  Even  at  the  moment  of  their  retreat, 
the  English  force  was  more  than  twice  as  great  as 
that  of  the  garrison  ;  the  fortress  might  still  have 
been  reduced  by  a  well-conducted  siege ;  but  all 
further  operations  were  at  once  abandoned.  Ma 
jor  Putnam,  who  had  been  employed  throughout 
the  action  in  bringing  up  the  provincial  regiments, 
rendered  great  service  in  securing  the  retreat ;  and, 
by  the  evening  of  the  next  day,  the  whole  army 
had  regained  their  camp  at  the  south  end  of  Lake 
George.  The  annals  of  even  this  war  give  no 
example  of  a  more  unfortunate  or  ill-coc  ducted 
enterprise. 


ISRAEL    PUTNAM.  141 


CHAPTER  III. 

Perilous   Descent  of  the  Rapids  at  Fort  Miller. 

—  Battle  with  the  Indians.  —  Putnam  taken 
Prisoner  and  treated  with  great   Cruelty. — 
Sent  to  Ticonderoga,  and  thence  to  Montreal. 

—  Exchanged,  and  returns  to  the    Army.  — 
Colonel  Schuyler.  —  Putnam  is  commissioned 
Lieutenant-Colonel. —  Serves   under   General 
Amherst. —  Takes   part  in    the    Expedition 
against  Havana.  —  Engaged  in  an  Enterprise 
against   the  Western  Indians.  —  Retires  from 
the  Army  after  Ten  Years'  Service. 

ONE  day  in  the  course  of  this  summer,  while 
Major  Putnam  was  lying  in  a  batteau  with  five 
men  on  the  east  side  of  the  Hudson,  near  the  Rap 
ids  by  Fort  Miller,  he  was  suddenly  warned  from 
the  opposite  shore  that  the  Indians  were  upon  him. 
His  batteau  was  at  the  head  of  the  Rapids ;  to  re 
main  or  cross  the  river  would  be  inevitably  fatal. 
Before  the  batteau  could  be  put  in  motion,  the 
Indians  opened  their  fire  from  the  bank ;  one 
man, who,  being  at.  a  little  distance  from  the  rest, 
had  been  of  necessity  left  behind,  was  instantly 
seized  by  them,  and  killed. 

Without  a  moment's  hesitation  Putnam  seized 


142  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

the  helm,  and  steered  his  batteau  directly  down 
the  river ;  there  was  scarcely  even  a  chance  for 
escape ;  the  current  was  broken  into  whirlpools 
and  eddies,  as  it  rushed  furiously  over  shelves  and 
among  projecting  rocks.  Without  any  aid  from 
his  companions,  who  were  aghast  at  the  danger, 
he  guided  his  boat,  as  it  shot  down,  in  the  course 
which  seemed  least  threatening,  avoiding  the 
rocks  and  stemming  the  eddies.  Sometimes  it  was 
turned  fairly  round,  again  .it  sped  onward  with  the 
fleetness  of  a  dart ;  till,  in  a  few  minutes,  it  was 
gliding  quietly  over  the  smooth  stream  below. 

"  On  witnessing  this  spectacle,"  says  Colonel 
Humphreys,  "  it  is  asserted  that  these  rude  sons 
of  nature  were  affected  with  the  same  sort  of  su 
perstitious  veneration  which  the  Europeans,  in  the 
dark  ages,  entertained  for  some  of  their  most  val 
orous  companions.  They  deemed  the  man  invul 
nerable,  whom  their  balls  on  his  pushing  from  the 
shore  could  not  touch  ;  and  whom  they  had  seen 
steering  in  safety  down  the  Rapids  that  had  never 
before  been  passed.  They  conceived  it  would  be 
an  affront  against  the  Great  Spirit  to  kill  this  fa 
vored  mortal  with  powder  and  ball,  if  they  should 
ever  see  and  know  him  again."  It  will  be  seen, 
however,  that  some  of  the  race  were  not  inclined 
to  push  these  religious  scruples  so  far,  as  to  deny 
themselves  the  satisfaction  of  subjecting  him  to  th 
ordeal  of  fire. 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  143 

In  the  month  of  August,  Major  Putnam  was  de 
serted  by  the  fortune  which  had  hitherto  attended 
him,  and  encountered  some  of  the  most  remarka 
ble  of  those  perils,  which  give  a  character  of  ro 
mance  to  his  personal  history.  A  corps  of  five 
hundred  men,  under  the  command  of  Major  Rogers 
and  himself,  was  detached  to  watch  the  enemy 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Ticonderoga.  When  the 
party  reached  South  Bay,  it  was  separated  into 
two  divisions,  which  were  stationed  at  a  consider 
able  distance  from  each  other ;  but,  being  discov 
ered  by  the  enemy,  it  was  deemed  expedient  to 
reunite  them,  and  to  return  without  delay  to 
head-quarters  at  Fort  Edward. 

They  were  arranged  for  this  purpose  in  three 
divisions.  Rogers  headed  the  right,  Putnam  the 
left,  and  the  central  one  was  led  by  Captain  Dal- 
zell.  At  the  close  of  the  first  day's  march,  they 
halted  on  the  borders  of  Clear  River.  Early  the 
next  morning,  Major  Rogers,  with  a  strange  disre 
gard  of  those  precautions  to  which  the  Rangers 
were  so  often  indebted  for  security,  amused  him 
self  by  a  trial  of  skill  with  a  British  officer,  in 
firing  at  a  mark ;  and  this  signal  act  of  imprudence 
was  followed  by  the  loss  of  many  lives. 

Molang,  the  French  partisan,  had  been  sent  out 
with  five  hundred  men  to  intercept  the  party,  and 
was  at  this  moment  lying  scarce  a  mile  from  their 
encampment.  The  sound  of  the  firing  guided  him 


144  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

at  once  to  their  position  ;  and  he  posted  his  men  ir 
ambush  along  the  outskirts  of  the  forest,  near  the 
paths  through  which  they  were  to  pass.  Soon 
after  sunrise  the  Americans  resumed  their  march 
through  a  thicket  of  shrubs  and  brushwood,  over 
land  from  which  the  timber  had  been  partially 
cleared  some  years  before ;  and,  owing  to  the  dif 
ficulty  of  forcing  their  way  through  these  obstruc 
tions,  they  moved  in  close  columns,  Putnam  lead 
ing  the  way,  Dalzell  being  stationed  in  the  centre, 
and  Rogers  in  the  rear.  Just  as  they  had  trav 
ersed  the  thicket  and  were  about  to  penetrate  the 
forest,  they  were  furiously  attacked  by  the  Trench 
and  savages. 

The  assault,  however  unexpected,  was  sustained 
with  gallantry  and  coolness ;  Putnam  ordered  his 
men  to  halt,  returned  the  fire,  and  called  upon 
Dalzell  and  Rogers  to  support  him.  Dalzell  came 
immediately  up  ;  but  Rogers,  instead  of  advancing 
to  the  aid  of  his  associates,  stationed  his  men  be 
tween  the  combatants  and  Wood  Creek,  in  order, 
as  he  affirmed,  to  guard  against  an  attack  in  the 
rear ;  or,  as  was  suspected  by  others,  to  relieve 
himself  from  the  necessity  of  making  one  in  an 
opposite  direction.  The  action  began  to  assume 
a  desperate  character.  Putnam  was  determined  to 
maintain  his  ground ;  his  soldiers,  as  occasion  re 
quired,  fought  in  ranks  in  the  open  spaces- of  the 
forest,  or  fired  from  behind  the  shelter  of  the  trees. 


IS  It  A  EL     PUTNAM. 

But  his  own  fusee  chanced  to  miss  fire,  while  he 
held  its  muzzle  against  the  breast  of  an  athletic 
savage ;  thus  defenceless,  he  was  compelled  to 
surrender ;  and  his  antagonist,  having  bound  him 
securely  to  a  tree,  returned  to  the  battle. 

Captain  Dalzell,  who  now  commanded,  main 
tained  the  fight  with  signal  intrepidity ;  but  the 
Provincials  were  compelled  to  retreat  for  a  little 
distance,  closely  followed  by  the  savages,  exult 
ing  in  their  fancied  triumph,  and  rushing  forward 
with  shouts  of  victory.  The  Provincials  rallied 
and  drove  them  back  beyond  their  former  posi 
tion  ,  and  the  battle  here  grew  warmer  than 
before.  The  tree  to  which  Putnam  was  secured 
was  thus  brought  midway  between  the  combat 
ants,  in  the  centre  of  the  hottest  fire  of  both ;  and 
he  stood,  wholly  unable  to  move  his  body,  or  even 
to  incline  his  head,  in  the  midst  of  a  shower  of 
balls,  of  which  many  lodged  in  the  tree  above 
him,  and  several  passed  through  the  sleeves  and 
skirts  of  his  coat. 

In  this  position,  than  which  it  would  be  difficult 
for  the  imagination  to  conceive  one  more  appal 
ling,  he  remained  for  more  than  an  hour ;  each  of 
the  parties  meanwhile  giving  ground  several  times 
\n  succession,  but  not  so  far  as  to  place  him  beyoiid 
the  field  of  contest.  Once,  when  the  Provincials 
had  retired  a  little  and  the  savages  were  near  him, 
a  young  Indian  amused  himself  by  throwing  his 

VOL.  VII. M  10 


146  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

tomahawk  at  the  tree,  apparently  to  ascertain  how 
nearly  he  could  cast  it  to  the  body  of  the  prisoner, 
without  striking  him ;  and  the  weapon  more  than 
once  lodged  in  the  tree,  within  a  hair's  breadth  of 
the  mark.  When  this  barbarian  grew  weary  of  his 
sport,  a  French  subaltern  drew  near,  and  levelled 
his  musket  at  Putnam's  breast.  Fortunately  it 
missed  fire.  It  was  in  vain  that  the  latter  claimed 
the  treatment  due  to  him  as  a  prisoner  of  war. 
The  Frenchman,  instead  of  desisting,  pushed  him 
violently  with  his  musket,  and  after  dealing  him 
a  severe  blow  upon  the  cheek  with  the  but-end 
of  his  piece,  left  him  to  his  fate. 

After  a  long  and  gallant  contest,  the  Provincials 
remained  in  possession  of  the  field;  the  enemy 
were  routed  with  the  loss  of  ninety  of  their  num 
ber,  and  retired,  taking  with  them  their  prisoner, 
who  was  destined  to  undergo  still  greater  suffering. 

When  the  Indians  had  retreated  to  a  considera 
ble  distance  from  the  field  of  the  battle,  they  de 
prived  Major  Putnam  of  his  coat,  vest,  stockings, 
and  shoes,  bound  his  hands  tightly  together,  and 
piled  the  packs  of  a  number  of  the  wounded  on 
his  back.  In  this  wretched  condition,  exhausted 
by  fatigue,  and  severely  suffering  from  the  injuries 
he  had  received,  he  was  forced  to  march  for  many 
miles  through  a  mountainous  and  rugged  tract ; 
until  the  party,  overcome  with  weariness,  at  length 
halted  to  rest  themselves.  Meantime,  the  tight- 


ISRAEL,     PUTNAM.  147 

ness  of  the  cords  around  his  wrists  had  caused 
his  hands  to  swell,  and  made  them  exquisitely 
painful ;  the  blood  was  flowing  from  his  torn  and 
naked  feet ;  the  weight  of  his  burden  became  intol 
erable  to  his  exhausted  frame ;  and  he  entreated 
the  savages  to  loose  his  hands  or  to  release  him 
from  his  sufferings  by  death. 

A  French  officer  interposed,  removed  the  liga 
tures,  and  relieved  hkn  of  a  portion  of  his  burden  ; 
the  Indian,  who  had  made  him  captive  and  who 
had  remained  behind  to  attend  to  the  wounded, 
also  came  up,  provided  him  with  moccasons,  and 
expressed  much  indignation  at  the  treatment  which 
he  had  received ;  but  soon  went  back,  without 
takingjneasures  to  secure  him  against  its  repetition. 

A  spot  for  the  evening's  encampment  was  se 
lected,  and  the  Indians,  taking  with  them  Major 
Putnam,  went  thither  in  advance  of  the  rest  of  the 
party.  On  the  way  he  experienced  fresh  out 
rages,  and  was  deeply  wounded  on  the  cheek  by  a 
blow  from  a  tomahawk.  He  had  been  thus  far 
spared  for  a  darker  purpose  ;  it  had  been  resolved 
that  he  should  perish  at  the  stake,  with  all  those 
refinements  of  torture,  by  which  the  savages  know 
how  to  enhance  the  bitterness  of  death.  The 
depths  of  the  forest  were  chosen  as  the  scene  of 
sacrifice.  The  victim  was  bound  entirely  naked 
to  a  tree  ;  large  piles  of  fuel  were  laid  in  a  circle 
around  him ;  and,  while  these  fearful  preparations 


148  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY 

were  in  progress,  they  were  rendered  more  ap 
palling  by  the  wild  songs  and  exultation  of  the 
Indians. 

When  all  was  ready  and  their  victim  was  await 
ing  the  hour  of  death  with  the  fortitude  which 
never  failed  him,  the  fire  was  set  to  the  fuel 
about  him  ;  but  a  sudden  shower  extinguished  the 
flames.  After  repeated  efforts,  the  blaze  began  to 
rise  from  every  portion  of  the  circle.  Putnam's 
hands  were  closely  bound,  but  he  was  still  able  to 
move  his  body ;  and  his  convulsive  writhing  to 
avoid  the  flame  gave  infinite  diversion  to  his  tor 
mentors,  who  accompanied  their  orgies  with  songs 
and  dances,  and  their  usual  terrific  expressions  of 
delight. 

All  hope  of  relief  was  now  at  an  end,  and  na 
ture  was  beginning  to  yield  to  the  excess  of  suf 
fering,  when  a  French  officer  rushed  through  the 
throng,  dashed  aside  the  blazing  brands,  and  cut 
the  cords  of  the  prisoner.  A  savage,  touched  by 
some  sudden  impulse  of  humanity,  had  hurried  to 
inform  Molang  of  the  proceedings  of  his  fellows  , 
and  it  was  this  brave  partisan  himself,  who  had 
thus,  at  the  last  extremity,  redeemed  from  the 
most  horrible  of  deaths  a  gallant  foe.  After  sternly 
reprimanding  the  Indians  for  their  cruelty,  he  took 
Putnam  under  his  protection,  until  he  could  re 
store  him  to  his  savage  master. 

The  kindness  of  this  master  (for  so  the  Indian 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  149 

who  captured  Putnam  was  considered)  bore  some 
resemblance  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  wicked. 
He  appeared  to  feel  for  the  sufferings  of  his  pris 
oner  ;  and,  finding  him  unable  to  eat  the  hard  bread 
set  before  him,  in  consequence  of  the  injury  in 
flicted  by  the  Frenchman,  moistened  it  with  water 
for  his  relief.  Apprehensive,  however,  that  Put 
nam  might  take  advantage  of  the  darkness  to 
escape,  he  removed  his  moccasons,  and  bound  them 
to  his  wrists  ;  then  placed  him  on  the  ground  upon 
his  back,  and,  extending  his  arms  as  far  asunder 
as  possible,  secured  them  to  two  young  trees.  His 
legs  were  next  secured  in  the  same  ingenious  man 
ner.  Several  long  and  slender  poles  were  next 
cut,  and  laid,  together  with  bushes,  transversely 
across  Putnam's  body  ;  on  the  extremities  of  these 
lay  several  Indians,  in  such  a  manner  that  the 
slightest  effort  to  escape  must  awaken  them. 

Having  completed  this  singular  cage,  the  In 
dians  were  content  with  the  provision  they  had 
made  for  his  safe-keeping ;  and  in  this  particularly 
inconvenient  prison  Putnam  spent  the  dreary 
night  that  followed  his  release  from  death.  He 
was  accustomed  to  relate,  that,  even  while  thus 
reposing,  he  could  not  refrain  from  smiling  as  he 
thought  of  the  odd  subject  for  the  canvass  which 
was  presented  by  the  group,  of  which  he  consti 
tuted  the  most  prominent  figure  ;  but  his  merri 
ment  was  probably  of  short  duration. 


150  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

Next  morning  he  was  released  from  durance 
and  provided  with  a  blanket ;  some  bear's  meat 
was  given  him  to  allay  his  hunger,  and  he  was 
permitted  to  resume  his  march  without  a  burden. 
Some  vexation  was  occasionally  shown  by  the  sav 
ages,  by  menacing  signs  and  gestures,  on  account 
of  the  loss  of  their  expected  entertainment ;  but 
they  were  no  longer  suffered  to  molest  him,  and  he 
reached  Ticonderoga  the  same  night,  without  ex 
periencing  farther  violence.  On  his  arrival  there, 
he  was  placed  in  the  custody  of  a  French  guard. 

After  having  been  examined  by  Montcahn, 
Major  Putnam  was  transferred  to  Montreal.  He 
was  conducted  thither  by  a  French  officer,  from 
whom  he  received  a  courtesy  and  kindness  which 
were  the  more  welcome,  from  the  indignities  he 
had  so  lately  suffered.  Several  American  prison 
ers  were  in  that  city  at  the  time ;  among  the  num 
ber  was  Colonel  Peter  Schuyler.  When  he  heard 
of  the  arrival  of  Putnam,  Colonel  Schuyler  has 
tened  to  ascertain  the  place  of  his  abode.  The 
Provincial  Major  had  been  suffered  to  remain  with 
out  a  coat,  vest,  or  stockings  ;  the  remnant  of  his 
clothing  was  miserably  tattered,  and  his  body 
exhibited  serious  marks  of  the  violence  he  had 
endured.  Colonel  Schuyler,  when  he  came  into 
his  presence,  was  so  affected  by  the  sight,  that  he 
could  hardly,  in  the  language  of  Humphreys, 
"  contain  his  speech  within  limits  consistent  with 


ISRAET,     PUTNAM.  151 

the  prudence  of  a  prisoner,  and  the  meekness  of 
a  Christian." 

He  immediately  supplied  his  countryman  with 
all  that  his  necessities  required  ;  and,  after  securing 
to  him,  by  the  most  active  intercession,  the  treat 
ment  to  which  his  rank  entitled  him,  found  means 
to  render  him  a  more  important  service.  The 
capture  of  Frontenac  by  the  British  occasioned  an 
exchange  of  prisoners,  of  which  Putnam  reaped 
the  benefit  by  a  stratagem  of  Colonel  Schuyler. 
There  were  several  officers  among  the  prisoners, 
whose  claim  to  be  exchanged  was  superior  to  his  ; 
and  Schuyler,  fearing  that  the  opportunity  might 
be  lost  if  the  character  of  the  prisoner  should  be 
known,  prevailed  upon  the  Governor  to  permit  him 
to  name  an  officer  to  be  included  in  the  cartel.  He 
then  assured  his  Excellency,  that  he  should  name 
an  old  Provincial  major,  who  was  of  no  service 
there  or  elsewhere,  but  was  very  anxious  to  re 
turn  to  his  wife  and  family,  in  preference  to  the 
young  men,  who  had  no  families  to  care  for. 

There  is  another  instance  of  the  beneficence  of 
Colonel  Schuyler,  not  wholly  unconnected  with  the 
object  of  this  narrative.  Mrs.  Howe,  the  story  of 
whose  captivity  by  the  Indians  is  familiar  to  Amer 
ican  readers,  was  an  inmate  of  his  family  in  Mon 
treal,  at  the  time  of  which  we  speak.  The  first 
husband  of  this  lady  had  been  murdered  by  the 
Indians,  several  years  before.  Mr.  Howe,  the 


152  AMERICAN    BIOGRAPHY. 

second,  met  with  a  similar  fate  at  Fort  Dummer,  in 
1 756  ;  and  his  wife,  with  seven  children,  was  carried 
into  captivity.  They  wandered  for  many  months, 
exposed  to  the  extremity  of  hardship  and  privation. 
Her  two  daughters  were  destined  by  the  Indians 
to  become  the  wives  of  two  young  warriors ;  but 
this  scheme  was  defeated  by  the  address  of  their 
mother,  who  prevailed  upon  the  French  com 
mander  to  procure  them  admission  into  a  convent 
at  Montreal.  The  sons,  five  in  number,  were 
distributed  among  various  Indian  tribes.  She  was 
herself  ransomed  from  the  Indians  by  an  old  French 
officer,  from  whose  rude  importunities,  as  well  as 
those  of  his  son,  she  found  it  difficult  to  escape. 

She  had  heard  of  Colonel  Schuyler,  and  found 
means  to  acquaint  him  with  her  story.  With  his 
usual  generosity  he  immediately  paid  the  price 
of  her  ransom,  and  thought  his  work  of  charity 
imperfectly  accomplished,  until  all  her  sons  were 
restored  to  her.  It  became  necessary  for  him  to 
return  home  before  the  other  prisoners  were  ready 
for  the  journey  ;  and  he  recommended  Mrs.  Howe 
and  her  family  to  the  charge  of  Major  Putnam, 
with  whom  she  returned  in  safety  to  her  friends  ; 
both  having  experienced  a  larger  measure  of  suf 
fering,  than  humanity  is  often  called  to  undergo. 

In  1759,  a  plan  was  formed  for  the  entire 
expulsion  of  the  French  from  their  possessions  on 
this  continent.  Three  powerful  armies  were  to 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  153 

enter  Canada  by  different  routes ;  General  Wolfe 
was  appointed  to  conduct  an  expedition  up  the 
St.  Lawrence  against  Quebec  ;  General  Amherst, 
after  reducing  Ticonderoga  and  Crown  Point,  was 
to  join  him  under  the  walls  of  that  city ;  and  a 
third  army  was  destined  against  Fort  Niagara. 
General  Prideaux,  the  commander  of  the  last, 
after  reducing  that  fortress,  was  to  attack  Mon 
treal,  and,  if  successful,  was  to  unite  himself  with 
the  grand  army  at  Quebec.  This  vast  scheme  was 
only  partially  accomplished  before  the  close  of  the 
campaign. 

The  name  and  victory  of  Wolfe  are  familiar  in 
the  mouths  of  all  as  household  words.  Amherst 
succeeded  in  the  reduction  of  Ticonderoga  and 
Crown  Point,  but  at  so  late  a  period  as  to  prevent 
him  from  advancing  into  Canada ;  the  fortress  of 
Niagara  was  also  taken  by  Prideaux,  but  it  was 
not  thought  prudent  to  hazard  an  attack  on  Mon 
treal.  Such  was  the  general  condition  of  affairs  at 
the  close  of  1759.  Putnam,  who  had  been  raised 
to  the  rank  of  lieutenant-colonel,  accompanied 
the  army  of  Amherst,  and  was  employed  during 
the  latter  part  of  the  season  in  strengthening  the 
defences  of  Crown  Point ;  but  we  have  no  means 
of  giving  any  particular  detail  of  his  operations. 

The  next  season,  that  of  1760,  witnessed  the 
termination  of  the  war  in  this  portion  of  America. 
Montreal  was  the  only  important  post  remaining 


154  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

in  possession  of  the  French,  whose  whole  force 
was  concentrated  in  its  neighborhood .,  General 
Amherst,  the  British  commander-in-chief,  had 
employed  the  winter  in  preparations  tj>  unite  his 
forces  under  the  walls  of  that  city.  With  this 
view,  General  Murray  was  to  advance  upon  it  by 
water  from  Quebec ;  Colonel  Haviland  was  to 
proceed  thither  from  Crown  Point  by  the  way  of 
Lake  Champlain ;  while  Amherst  himself,  at  the 
head  of  an  army  of  ten  thousand  men,  was  to 
enter  the  St.  Lawrence  by  the  way  of  Lake  Onta 
rio,  and  descend  it  to  Montreal. 

In  falling  down  the  river,  the  progress  of  the 
troops  was  arrested  by  two  armed  vessels  near  the 
mouth  of  the  Oswegatchie,  in  a  position  which 
effectually  prevented  the  British  from  attacking 
the  fort  of  the  same  name  in  the  vicinity.  Lieu 
tenant-Colonel  Putnam's  activity  and  resources 
were  called  into  requisition  to  remove  the  obsta 
cle  ;  and  he  undertook,  with  one  thousand  men,  in 
Ifty  batteaux,  to  carry  the  vessels  by  boarding. 
Having  made  his  preparations,  he  took  his  station 
in  the  van,  with  a  chosen  crew,  and  provided  with 
the  somewhat  odd  munitions  of  a  beetle  and 
wedges;  with  these  he  intended  to  secure  the 
rudders  of  the  vessels,  so  that  they  might  be  pre 
vented  from  bringing  their  broadsides  to  bear.  At 
the  appointed  signal,  the  batteaux  were  put  in 
motion,  Putnam  having  quite  unnecessarily  assured 


ISRAEL    PUTNAM.  155 

his  men,  that  he  should  show  them  the  way  up 
the  vessels'  sides.  But  the  object  was  effected  in 
a  less  sanguinary  way ;  at  the  moment  of  attack, 
the  crew  of  one  of  the  vessels  compelled  its  cap 
tain  to  strike,  and  the  other  was  run  on  shore. 

The  fort  of  Oswegatchie  was  situated  on  an 
island,  and  was  defended  by  abatis,  overhanging 
the  water,  and  apparently  quite  inaccessible.  Put 
nam  again  devised  a  method  of  attack,  for  which 
he  was  indebted  to  no  mortal  engineer.  With  the 
permission  of  General  Amherst,  he  caused  a  num 
ber  of  boats  to  be  prepared,  with  musket-proof 
fascines  along  the  sides,  forming  a  complete  shelter 
from  the  fire  of  the  enemy  ;  and  a  broad  plank, 
twenty  feet  in  length,  was  so  attached  to  the  bows 
of  each,  that  it  could  be  elevated  or  depressed  at 
pleasure.  It  was  his  intention  to  force  the  boats 
directly  against  the  abatis ;  when  the  planks,  till 
then  upright,  were  to  be  lowered,  so  as  to  form 
a  species  of  bridge  over  the  projecting  stakes, 
and  thus  enable  the  assailants  to  scale  them ; ' 
the  attention  of  the  enemy  was  meanwhile  to  be 
distracted  by  simultaneous  attacks  upon  various 
portions  of  the  works.  The  signal  had  been 
given,  and  the  boats  were  moving  in  order  to  the 
attack,  when  the  sight  of  their  strange  enginery 
discomposed  the  nerves  of  the  besieged,  who  sur 
rendered  without  a  blow. 

Putnam  was  highly  complimented  for  his  inge- 


156  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

nuity  and  courage  by  the  general-in-chief;  and 
it  is  in  no  small  degree  to  be  attributed  to  him, 
that  the  armies  of  Amherst  and  Murray,  approach 
ing  Montreal  from  opposite  directions,  arrived 
on  the  same  day  beneath  its  walls.  Colonel 
Haviland  came  in  immediately  after,  when  the 
conquest  of  Canada  became  complete,  oy  the 
capitulation  of  the  French. 

It  deserves  to  be  mentioned  that  Putnam  met 
once  more  with  his  savage  master,  at  an  Indian 
village  in  the  neighborhood  of  Montreal,  and  was 
welcomed  by  him  with  much  hospitality.  The 
change  of  circumstances  had  given  him  an  oppor 
tunity,  which  he  did  not  neglect,  of  requiting  the 
attentions  of  the  Indian,  whose  kindness,  though 
not  of  the  most  delicate  kind,  had  been  quite 
beyond  the  usual  standard  of  his  race. 

In  the  spring  of  1762,  \var  having  been  declared 
by  Great  Britain  against  Spain,  a  powerful  arma 
ment  was  prepared  at  Portsmouth  for  the  reduc 
tion  of  Havana.  A  body  of  four  thousand  regu 
lars  was  ordered  from  New  York  to  join  the  ex 
pedition  on  the  coast  of  Cuba,  and  a  large  Pro 
vincial  force,  under  its  own  officers,  cooperated  in 
the  enterprise.  The  regiment  from  Connecticut 
was  under  the  command  of  General  Lyman ;  but 
as  he  was  called  to  the  command  of  the  whole 
Provincial  force,  the  charge  of  it  devolved  on 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Putnam. 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  157 

The  fleet  arrived  in  safety  on  the  coast  of  Cuba , 
but  a  violent  storm  arose  before  the  troops  were 
landed,  and  one  of  the  transports,  in  which  was 
Putnam  with  five  hundred  men,  was  thrown  upon 
a  dangerous  reef.  No  aid  could  be  afforded  by  the 
other  ships,  which  with  difficulty  rode  out  the  gale ; 
but  rafts  were  prepared  of  masts  and  spars,  secured 
together  with  cordage,  by  means  of  which  every 
individual  reached  the  shore  in  safety.  Having 
fortified  his  camp,  Putnam  remained  for  several 
days  until  the  storm  subsided  ;  his  troops  were 
then  reembarked  in  the  convoy,  and  joined  the 
armament  before  Havana.  Their  seasonable  ar 
rival  gave  fresh  courage  to  the  English,  who  had 
landed  several  weeks  before,  and  had  already  lost 
half  their  number  by  privation,  disease,  and  the 
sword.  Their  efforts  were  at  length  successful, 
but  the  success  was  very  dearly  purchased  ;  the 
troops  sunk  by  hundreds  beneath  the  influence  of 
the  burning  climate ;  scarcely  any  of  the  Ameri 
can  soldiers,  and  a  feeble  remnant  of  the  officers, 
returned  to  their  own  country. 

The  hostilities  of  the  Western  Indians  were  not 
terminated  by  the  treaty  of  Paris  in  1763 ;  and  a 
new  expedition  was  undertaken  against  them  in 
the  course  of  the  next  year,  to  which  Connecticut 
contributed  four  hundred  men.  This  corps  was 
under  the  command  of  Putnam,  who  now  for  the 
first  time  received  the  commission  of  a  colonel 


158  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

Among  his  companions  in  the  expedition  was  the 
Indian  chief,  of  whom  he  had  been  formerly  the 
captive.  Little  opportunity,  however,  was  af 
forded  for  brilliant  services ;  the  savages  were 

»  o 

overawed,  and  next  year  concluded  a  treaty  with 
the  English. 

A  single  incident  occurred,  which  requires  to 
be  mentioned  here.  Before  the  Provincials  reached 
Detroit,  it  had  been  invested  by  the  Indians. 
Among  its  defenders  was  Captain  Dalzell,  the  old 
associate  and  friend  of  Putnam.  He  had  been  de 
tached  by  General  Amherst  to  raise  the  siege,  and 
found  means  to  gain  admission  to  the  fortress ;  but, 
reluctant  to  disobey  the  orders  of  his  commander, 
made  a  desperate  sally  against  a  formidable  force. 
His  troops  were  surrounded,  and  attempted  to  re 
treat.  They  had  gained  a  temporary  shelter,  when 
he  saw  one  of  his  sergeants  without,  desperately 
wounded,  and  exposed  to  capture  by  the  enemy  ; 
his  men  were  ordered  to  bring  him  in,  but  they 
declined  the  undertaking,  as  too  hazardous  ;  Cap 
tain  Dalzell  then  went  forth  alone,  declaring  that 
he  would  never  leave  his  comrade  at  the  mercy  of 
the  savages.  As  he  was  raising  the  wounded  man 
from  the  ground,  the  fire  of  the  enemy  was  poured 
in,  and  they  fell  together.  No  nobler  death  ever 
ended  the  triumphs  of  the  brave  ! 

Colonel  Putnam  had  now  been  engaged  in  the 
military  service  for  about  ten  years ;  and  no  man 


ISRAEL     PUTrfAM.  159 

quitted  it  with  greater  honor.  A  larger  measure 
of  hardship  and  danger  than  had  fallen  to  his  lot, 
is  rarely  crowded  into  the  compass  of  a  single  life. 
All  this  had  been  encountered,  and  all  his  duties 
been  discharged  with  a  chivalrous  bravery  and 
fulness  of  resource,  which  commanded  universal 
admiration.  Military  education,  except  such  as 
was  the  result  of  his  experience,  he  had  abso 
lutely  none  ;  his  early  instruction  was  very  defec 
tive,  and,  had  it  been  otherwise,  could  have  done 
little  towards  qualifying  him  for  the  life  which  he 
had  chosen ;  but  he  had  a  calm  good  sense, 
a  ready  ingenuity,  unbounded  energy  and  self- 
possession  in  the  midst  of  danger,  which  had  made 
him  fully  equal  to  all  the  stations  he  was  called 
to  fill. 

Personal  bravery  is  perhaps  the  cheapest  of  the 
military  virtues ;  but  there  was  something  cool, 
daring,  and  unostentatious  in  that  of  Putnam, 
which  attracted  equally  the  wonder  of  the  culti 
vated  and  the  rude.  In  the  words  recorded  by  a 
personal  friend  upon  his  monument,  he  had  always 
"  dared  to  lead,  where  any  dared  to  follow."  His 
disposition  was  full  of  the  frankness  of  the  soldier, 
united  with  a  kindness  and  generosity,  not  always 
found  in  union  with  the  sterner  qualities  demanded 
by  the  life  of  camps ;  an  extended  intercourse 
with  others  had  refined  the  asperities  of  his  man 
ners,  without  impairing  the  simplicity  of  his 
genuine  New  England  character. 


ICO  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHT. 

He  carried  with  him  into  private  life  the  esteem 
and  confidence  of  all.  Throughout  the  country, 
tnere  prevailed  a  strong  feeling  of  respect  for  his 
services  and  military  talent ;  and  he  was  regarded 
as  not  the  least  able  proficient  in  that  seminary  of 
no  gentle  discipline,  the  Seven  Years'  War.  As 
there  was  now  no  call  for  the  display  of  his  ability 
as  a  soldier,  he  returned  to  his  plough ;  and  his 
fellow  citizens  took  pleasure  in  offering  such  testi 
monies  of  esteem  to  it  was  in  their  power  to  give, 
oy  electing  him  to  fill  the  higher  municipal  offices, 
and  to  represent  them  in  the  General  Assembly 
of  the  State. 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  161 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Colonel  Putnam  opposes  the  Stamp  Jict.  — 
Goes  \o  Mississippi  River  to  select  Lands  — 
His  Intimacy  u-ith  the  British  Officers  in  Bos 
ton. —  Hastens  to  the  Army  on  hearing  of  the 
Battle  of  Lexington.  —  Made  a  Brigadier- 
General  of  the  Connecticut  Troops.  —  Battle 
of  Bunker's  Hill. 

THE  great  drama  of  the  Revolution  had  already 
opened.  In  1764,  the  British  Parliament  resolved 
that  it  would  be  proper  to  impose  certain  stamp 
duties,  with  a  view  to  raise  a  revenue  in  America ; 
and  next  year  the  fatal  scheme  was  consummated 
by  the  passage  of  the  Stamp  Act.  The  ties, 
which  bound  the  colonies  to  the  mother  country, 
were  nearly  severed,  and  a  flame  began  to  ascend, 
which  could  be  extinguished  only  with  blood. 

From  the  outset,  Putnam's  heart  and  hand  were 
devoted  to  the  cause  of  freedom  ;  and  he  brought  to 
its  support  that  manly  energy  and  firmness,  which 
never  failed  him  in  the  hour  of  danger.  He  was 
among  the  foremost  to  compel  the  stamp-masters, 
appointed  in  Connecticut,  to  relinquish  their  odious 
office ;  and,  when  this  was  accomplished,  became 
one  of  a  committee  appointed  to  confer  with  the 

VOL.  vii. — N       11 


162  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY 

governor  of  the  colony  upon  the  subject.  He  was 
asked  by  Governor  Fitch  what  he,  as  chief  ex 
ecutive  magistrate,  was  to  do,  if  the  stamped  paper 
should  be  sent  him  by  the  orders  of  the  King  i 
'•'  Lock  it  up,"  replied  Putnam,  "  and  give  us  the 
key  ;  then,  if  you  think  proper,  to  screen  yourself 
from  responsibility,  prohibit  us  from  entering  the 
room  where  it  is  deposited  ;  we  will  send  it  safely 
back."  "  But  should  I  refuse  you  admission  ?  " 
"  In  five  minutes  your  house  will  be  levelled  witt 
the  dust." 

Colonel  Humphreys  remarks,  that  the  report  of 
this  conversation  was  believed  to  be  one  reason 
why  the  stamped  paper  was  never  sent  to  Connec 
ticut.  The  repeal  of  the  obnoxious  act,  in  1766, 
having  somewhat  tranquillized  the  popular  feeling, 
Colonel  Putnam  returned  once  more  to  his  agri 
cultural  labors.  They  were  interrupted  by  two 
accidents,  by  one  of  which  he  was  deprived  of  a 
portion  of  the  thumb  of  his  right  hand,  while  the 
other  was  attended  by  a  compound  fracture  of  the 
thigh,  which  made  him  slightly  lame  for  the  re 
mainder  of  his  life. 

General  Lyman,  whose  name  has  been  already 
mentioned,  had  been  deputed  by  the  surviving 
officers  and  soldiers  of  the  expedition  to  Havanc, 
to  receive  in  England  the  portion  of  their  prize- 
money,  remaining  due.  He  also  acted  as  the  agent 
of  a  company,  who  were  solicitous  to  procure  a 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  163 

grant  of  land  upon  the  Mississippi.  After  a  delay 
of  some  years,  the  application  for  the  grant  was 
successful;  and,  in  1770,  General  Lyman,  accom 
panied  by  Colonel  Putnam  and  two  or  three  other 
persons,  went  from  Connecticut  up  the  Mississippi 
to  explore  the  tract.  Putnam  placed  some  labor 
ers  on  his  portion,  but  did  not  himself  remain  or 
derive  any  permanent  advantage  from  the  under 
taking.  General  Lyman  revisited  Connecticut 
with  the  rest  of  the  party,  but  soon  returned  to 
Natchez,  where  he  formed  a  settlement,  and  re 
mained  until  his  death. 

In  the  interval  between  this  period  and  the 
beginning  of  hostilities,  Colonel  Putnam  had  occa 
sion  frequently  to  visit  Boston.  He  was  familiarly 
known  to  General  Gage,  Lord  Percy,  and  the 
other  principal  British  officers,  and  often  conversed 
with  them  on  the  subject  of  the  controversy. 
Whenever  he  was  questioned  as  to  the  part  which 
he  proposed  to  take,  his  answer  was  that  he  should 
be  found  on  his  country's  side,  and  stand  ready  to 
abide  the  issue.  It  was  intimated  to  him,  that 
one  acquainted  as  he  was  with  the  military  power 
of  Great  Britain,  could  hardly  think  it  unequal  to 
the  conquest  of  a  country  unprovided  with  any 
regular  forces,  magazines,  or  ships  of  war;  and  his 
reply  to  this  suggestion  is  full  of  sense  and  judg 
ment.  If  the  united  forces  of  Great  Britain  and 
the  colonies  had  required  six  years  to  conquer 


164  AMERICAN  *  BIOGRAPHY. 

Canada,  he  thought  it  would  not  be  easy  for  Brit 
ish  troops  alone  to  subdue  a  country,  with  which 
Canada  bore  no  comparison ;  and  he  believed  that 
the  consciousness  of  a  sacred  cause  would  give 
vigor  to  the  efforts  of  the  colonists.  Being  asked, 
whether  an  army  of  five  thousand  veterans  might 
not  march  from  one  end  of  the  continent  to  the 
other  ;  "  No  doubt,"  he  said,  "  if  they  conducted 
themselves  properly,  and  paid  for  what  they  want 
ed  ;  but,  should  they  attempt  it  in  a  hostile  manner, 
the  American  women  would  knock  them  on  the 
head  with  their  ladles."* 

On  the  19th  of  April,  1775,  the  hour  of  trial 
came.  Colonel  Putnam  was  laboring  in  the  field, 
when  the  news  of  the  battle  of  Lexington  was 
brought  to  him  ;  he  left  his  plough  standing  in  the 
furrow,  and  without  even  waiting  to  exchange  his 
clothes,  rode  with  the  utmost  expedition  to  the 
scene  of  action.  On  the  21st,  he  attended  a  coun 
cil  of  war  at  Cambridge.  The  Assembly  of  Con- 

*  There  are  some  other  weapons,  to  which  the  women 
might  possibly  have  resorted  in  such  an  emergency.  In 
1684,  Cranfield,  the  governor  of  New  Hampshire,  under 
took  to  tax  the  people  of  that  colony  without  their  con 
sent,  but  found  it  impossible  to  enforce  the  imposition. 
The  provost,  to  whom  the  tax-bills  were  committed  for 
collection,  testified,  that  the  people  of  Exeter  drove  the 
sheriff  away  with  cudgels ;  the  women  having  prepared 
red-hot  spits  and  boiling  water,  by  way  of  increasing  the 
warmth  of  his  welcome. 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  165 

necticut  was  then  in  session.  He  was  summoned 
back  by  that  body  to  confer  with  them  respecting 
the  preparations  for  the  campaign ;  and,  when  the 
object  was  effected,  received  a  commission  as 
brigadier-general,  and  returned  to  the  camp,  leav 
ing  orders  for  the  troops  to  follow  as  rapidly  as 
possible.  These,  to  the  number  of  three  thousand, 
were  soon  upon  their  march. 

On  the  21st  of  May,  General  Ward  was  com 
missioned  as  major-general  and  commander-in- 
chief  of  the  troops  of  Massachusetts ;  and  his  orders 
were  obeyed  by  all  the  officers  of  other  colonies 
within  the  province.  General  Putnam  was  first 
in  rank  among  the  officers  of  Connecticut ;  but  the 
troops  from  the  various  colonies  were  distributed 
among  the  several  stations.  The  head-quarters 
of  the  commander-in-chief  were  at  Cambridge, 
with  eight  thousand  Massachusetts  troops,  and  one 
thousand  from  Connecticut ;  the  latter,  with  two 
other  regiments,  being  stationed  at  Inman's  Farm, 
an  advanced  position,  under  the  immediate  com 
mand  of  General  Putnam.  The  right  wing  of  the 
army,  consisting  of  two  thousand  men  from  Massa 
chusetts,  one  thousand  from  Rhode  Island,  and 
the  remainder  of  the  Connecticut  troops,  was  at 
Roxbury,  under  the  command  of  Brigadier- 
General  Thomas ;  and  the  left  was  composed  of 
one  thousand  from  New  Hampshire  under  Col 
onels  Stark  and  Reed,  who  were  at  Medford,  and 


166 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 


another  detachment  of  the  same  troops,  together 
with  three  companies  of  Gerrish's  regiment,  at 
Chelsea.  General  Ward  had  with  him  five  compa 
nies  of  artillery,  and  General  Thomas  three  or  four. 
The  British  army  in  Boston,  at  the  close  of  the 
month  of  May,  consisted  of  ten  thousand  men. 

Perhaps  -there  was  no  officer  in  the  American 
army,  eminent  as  many  of  them  certainly  were, 
who  enjoyed  more  of  the  public  confidence  than 
General  Putnam.  Several  of  them  had  become  dis 
tinguished  in  the  old  French  war,  and  there  were 
some,  whose  capacity  to  conduct  large  military  op 
erations  was  perhaps  superior  to  his ;  but  there 
was  no  one  of  greater  promptness  and  energy  in 
action,  or  who  had  acquired  a  higher  reputation 
for  adventurous  bravery. 

In  the  course  of  the  month  of  May,  it  was  de 
termined  to  remove  the  cattle  from  the  islands  in 
Boston  harbor,  in  order  to  cut  off  the  supplies  of 
the  enemy,  who  were  blockaded  in  the  town 
For  this  purpose,  three  or  four  hundred  men  were 
detached,  and  succeeded  in  removing  them  from 
Hog  Island  and  Noddle's  Island.  A  skirmish  was 
thus  occasioned,  in  which  several  of  the  marines, 
who  had  been  stationed  to  guard  them,  were  killed. 
The  Americans  were  fired  on  by  the  British  ves 
sels  in  the  harbor,  and  a  reinforcement  of  three 
hundred  men,  with  two  pieces  of  artillery,  was 
ordered  to  support  them.  One  of  the  armed 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM,  167 

vessels,  a  schooner,  which  lay  near  the  shore,  was 
set  on  fire  by  the  artillery,  and  destroyed ;  and  a 
second  was  towed  beyond  the  range  of  the  shot  by 
the  boats  of  the  fleet.  The  affair  was  not  of  much 
importance,  except  as  it  served  to  inspire  confi 
dence  in  the  troops,  who  found  that  they  could 
encounter  the  enemy  with  success.  On  this  occa 
sion,  General  Warren  accompanied  Putnam  as  a 
volunteer. 

The  spirit  of  the  Americans  was  high,  and  they 
were  impatient  to  be  led  into  action ;  but  their 
disorganized  and  unprovided  state  rendered  such  a 
step  very  hazardous.  Many  of  the  officers  and 
men,  who  had  been  accustomed  only  to  the  irreg 
ular  service  of  rangers,  could  not  appreciate  the 
necessity  of  long  and  thorough  discipline  ;  and  the 
general  voice  of  the  people  called  for  some  deci 
sive  measures. 

General  Putnam  was  himself  desirous,  that  the 
advantage  of  this  spirit  should  not  be  lost  by  inac 
tion  ;  and  he  urged  the  necessity,  not  of  hazarding 
a  general  engagement,  but  of  some  partial  action 
in  which  the  Americans,  under  cover  of  intrench- 
ments,  might  cause  the  enemy  to  feel  their  skill  as 
marksmen ;  it  being  a  favorite  maxim  with  him, 
that,  if  the  militia  could  find  protection  for  their 
legs,  they  were  quite  indifferent  to  the  welfare  of 
the  rest  of  their  persons.  The  same  opinion  was 
maintained  by  Colonel  Prescott  and  other  veteran 


168  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

officers,  and  the  subject  was  considered  with  much 
earnestness  in  the  council  of  war. 

General  Ward  and  General  Warren,  on  the  other 
hand,  were  apprehensive  that  the  issue  of  an  action 
could  not  fail  to  prove  disastrous ;  the  supply  ol 
ammunition  was  very  limited  ;  and  they  feared  that 
it  must  terminate  in  a  general  engagement,  in  which 
the  Americans  would  be  defeated.  But  the  bolder 
counsel  at  length  prevailed.  The  Committee  of 
Safety  had  received  information,  that  it  was  the 
intention  of  the  British  to  occupy  the  heights  of 
Dorchester  and  Charlestown  ;  and  the  necessity 
of  anticipating  them  in  at  least  a  portion  of  this 
scheme  was  obvious  to  all.  The  committee  there 
fore  recommended  to  the  council  of  war,  to  take 
possession  of  Bunker's  Hill  without  delay.  The 
heights  of  Charlestown  had  already  been  exam 
ined  by  Putnam  and  other  officers,  and  the  advan 
tage  of  the  position  fully  ascertained. 

For  the  information  of  those  who  are  unac 
quainted  with  the  place,  it  may  be  proper  to 
remark,  that  the  peninsula  of  Charlestown  is  some 
what  more  than  a  mile  in  length  from  east  to 
west,  and  eleven  hundred  yards  across  from  north 
to  south ;  washed  on  the  north  by  Mystic  River, 
and  on  the  south  by  Charles  River,  which  ap 
proach  within  about  one  hundred  yards  of  each 
other  at  the  Neck  of  the  peninsula.  The  eastern 
part  is  separated  from  Boston  by  a  narrow  channel 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  169 

From  the  Neck  rises  Bunker's  Hill,  to  the  height  of 
a  little  more  than  one  hundred  feet,  terminating  in 
a  tongue  of  land,  which  extends  for  a  considerable 
distance  along  the  shore  of  Mystic  River,  about 
twenty  feet  above  the  water.  The  summit  ot 
Breed's  Hill,  which  is  about  sixty  feet  in  height, 
rises  in  a  southeasterly  direction  from  Bunker's  Hill, 
towards  Boston  ;  between  this  and  the  tongue  oi 
land,  on  the  north,  is  a  slough,  and  the  village  of 
Charlestown  lay  on  the  south,  on  the  declivity  ana 
at  the  base.  ,  Morton's  Point  is  the  northeast 
ern  extremityfof  the  peninsula,  and  the  hill  of  the 
same  name,  thirty-five  feet  high,  rises  near  it. 

The  detachment,  intended  for  the  expedition, 
consisting  of  about  one  thousand  men,  under  the 
immediate  command  of  Colonel  Prescott,  were 
assembled  on  Cambridge  Common  at  an  early 
hour  on  the  evening  of  the  16th  of  June,  where 
prayers  were  offered  by  the  President  of  Harvard 
College.  General  Putnam  accompanied  the  de 
tachment.  They  moved  at  nightfall  through 
Cambridge  and  across  the  Neck  of  the  peninsula, 
Colonel  Prescott,  dressed  in  his  calico  frock,  lead 
ing  the  way.  A  question  now  arose  respecting 
the  height,  which  was  intended  to  be  fortified. 
Bunker's  Hill  had  been  designated  for  the  pur 
pose  by  the  Committee,  while  Breed's  Hill  ap 
peared  better  suited  to  the  object  of  the  expedition ; 
but  it  is  orobable,  that  the  former  name  was 


170  AM  ERICA  >      BIOGRAPHY. 

usually  applied  indiscriminately  to  both  the  heights. 
So  much  time  was  consumed  by  the  discussion, 
that  it  was  nearly  midnight  before  it  was  con 
cluded  to  erect  the  principal  work  on  Breed's  Hill, 
and  a  subsidiary  one  on  Bunker's  Hill  for  the 
protection  of  the  rear,  and  as  a  rallying-point  in 
the  event  of  their  being  driven  from  the  other. 

A  redoubt,  about  eight  rods  square,  was  ac 
cordingly  laid  out  on  the  summit  of  Breed's  Hill, 
with  a  breastwork,  extending  from  its  northeastern 
angle  down  the  northern  declivity  to  the  slough. 
Before  the  action,  the  American  line1  was  extended 
to  the  left  across  the  tongue  of  land  to  Mystic 
River.  This  was  done  by  General  Putnam,  who 
ordered  Captain  Knowlton,  just  as  the  enemy  were 
landing,  to  take  post  with  some  Connecticut  troops 
behind  a  rail  fence,  running  in  the  direction  already 
mentioned,  about  two  hundred  yards  in  the  rear  of 
the  breastwork ;  and  an  imperfect  intrenchment  was 
made  by  disposing  other  fences  in  a  parallel  line 
and  throwing  some  newly-mown  grass  between. 

While  the  men  were  engaged  in  their  labors  on" 
the  breastwork  and  redoubt,  General  Putnam  re 
turned  to  Cambridge  to  procure  a  reinforcement ; 
but  the  report  of  a  sudden  cannonade  induced 
him  to  repair  without  hesitation  to  his  post.  The 
operations  of  the  detachment  were  unknown  to 
the  British  until  daylight,  when  a  heavy  fire  was 
opened  on  them  by  the  ships  and  batteries.  At 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  171 

the  suggestion  of  some  of  his  officers,  who  were 
anxious  that  the  men  should  be  relieved,  Colonel 
Prescott  convened  a  council  of  war ;  expressing 
at  the  same  time  his  aversion  to  the  proposition, 
and  insisting,  that,  as  they  had  endured  the  labor, 
they  were  entitled  to  the  honor  of  the  victory. 

Putnam  again  returned  to  Cambridge  for  pro 
visions  and  a  reinforcement,  and  equally  without 
effect.  Colonel  Prescott  now  called  another  coun- 
cil  of  war,  still  refusing  to  ask  to  be  relieved  ;  but 
he  consented  to  apply  to  General  Ward  for  the 
aid  which  had  been  twice  asked  in  vain.  Move 
ments  had  already  been  observed  among  the 
British  troops  in  Boston,  indicating  their  design  to 
prepare  for  an  attack.  By  eleven  o'clock,  General 
Ward  had  issued  his  orders  to  the  troops  of  Col 
onels  Stark  and  Reed  at  Medford,  to  proceed  to 
the  scene  of  action ;  but,  before  this  fact  could 
be  ascertained,  all  possible  preparation  had  been 
made  to  repel  the  enemy. 

Putnam  had  withdrawn  a  detachment  from  the 
redoubt  to  throw  up  the  contemplated  work  on 
Bunker's  Hill,  a  position  by  which  Breed's  Hill 
was  completely  commanded ;  and  he  resolved  to 
make  another  effort,  before  the  preparations  of 
the  enemy  could  be  completed,  to  procure  an 
additional  force  from  Cambridge.  He  repaired 
thither  for  the  third  time  across  the  Neck,  which 
was  now  swept  by  the  fire  of  a  man-of-war  and 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY 

floating  batteries ;  but,  learning  there  what  orders 
had  been  issued,  he  hastened  back  to  Charles- 
town. 

The  expected  reinforcement  at  length  arrived ; 
and  Putnam,  reserving  a  portion  of  them  to  aid  in 
the  construction  of  the  work  on  Bunker's  Hill,  or 
dered  Stark  and  Reed  to  join  the  Connecticut 
troops  at  the  rail  fence  with  the  residue.  Colonel 
Prescott  had  on  his  part  been  indefatigable  in  his 
preparations,  and  all  were  anxiously  awaiting  the 
approach  of  the  enemy. 

Never  was  the  fearful  spectacle  of  battle  pre 
sented  to  the  eye,  under  circumstances  more  strik 
ing,  or  of  deeper  interest.  Every  movement  of  the 
troops  on  either  side  was  distinctly  open  to  the 
view  of  thousands,  who  watched  from  the  neigh 
boring  roofs  and  spires  the  changes  of  the  scene. 
On  the  one  hand,  the  hopes  of  freedom  depended 
on  the  issue ;  on  the  other  there  was  a  deep  solici 
tude  to  support  the  honor  of  the  British  name. 
The  day  was  beautifully  clear  and  cloudless. 

At  noon,  twenty-eight  barges,  containing  four 
battalions  of  infantry  and  twenty  companies  of  light 
infantry  and  grenadiers,  with  six  pieces  of  artillery, 
moved  in  perfect  order  across  the  channel,  their 
brilliant  arms  flashing  in  the  sun  of  June.  They 
landed  at  Morton's  Point,  and  were  soon  joined 
by  a  second  detachment.  Shortly  after,  a  third 
detachment  reached  the  shore,  near  the  east  end 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  173 

of  Breed's  Hill.  The  united  force  consisted  of 
about  five  thousand  men. 

A  fire  was  now  opened  on  the  American  lines 
by  the  British  artillery  at  Morton's  Hill ;  and  it 
was  answered  by  a  few  pieces  from  the  redoubt, 
which  soon  became  useless  and  were  carried  to  the 
rear.  As  one  of  the  captains  of  artillery  was  re 
treating  over  Bunker's  Hill,  Putnam  ordered  him 
Dack  to  his  post,  threatening  him  with  death  if  he 
should  disobey.  He  returned ;  but  the  pieces 
were  deserted,  and  his  men  took  their  stations  in 
the  line. 

A  single  horseman  rode  at  full  speed  over  Bun 
ker's  Hill,  and  encountered  General  Putnam.  It 
was  General  Warren  ;  and  Putnam  offered  to  re 
ceive  his  orders.  Warren  replied,  that  he  came 
only  as  a  volunteer,  and  desired  to  know  where  his 
services  would  be  most  useful.  Putnam  pointed 
to  the  redoubt,  remarking  that  he  would  be  covered 
there.  "  I  came  not,"  said  Warren,  "  for  the  pur 
pose  of  security ;  tell  me  where  the  onset  will 
be  most  severe."  "  Go,  then,  to  the  redoubt," 
said  Putnam  ;  "  Prescott  is  there,  and  will  do  his 
duty ;  if  that  can  be  defended,  the  day  is  ours." 
Warren  rode  forward  to  the  redoubt,  where  he  was 
received  with  loud  acclamations.  Again  he  was 
offered  the  command  by  Colonel  Prescott,  but 
still  declined  it ;  observing,  that  he  was  happy  to 
study  the  art  of  war  under  such  an  officer. 


174  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

At  three  o'clock,  the  British  line  was  formed,  and 
the  troops  moved  in  perfect  and  imposing  order 
towards  the  rail  fence  and  redoubt.  Putnam  has 
tened  from  his  post  on  Bunker's  Hill,  rode  along  the 
lines,  and  ordered  the  men  to  reserve  their  fire 
till  the  enemy  were  within  eight  rods,  and  then  to 
prove  their  well-known  skill  as  marksmen  ;  the 
same  order  was  enforced  by  Prescott,  Stark,  and 
all  the  veteran  officers.  As  the  British  were  ad 
vancing,  all  within  those  low  intrenchments  was 
silent  as  death.  Just  as  the  enemy  were  upon 
them,  the  signal  was  given  ;  a  close  and  deadly 
fire  blazed  along  the  lines,  and  the  front  ranks  of 
the  enemy  were  swept  down  before  it.  Rank  fol 
lowed  rank,  but  in  vain ;  the  order  was  given  to 
retreat,  and  a  ahout  of  victory  rung  through  the 
American  line. 

In  the  mean  time,  reinforcements  from  Cam 
bridge  reached  the  Neck,  but  were  reluctant  to 
encounter  the  enfilading  fire.  When  the  Brit 
ish  had  retreated,  Putnam  hurried  to  the  spot  to 
bring  them  over,  riding  backward  and  forward 
several  times,  while  the  earth  was  thrown  up  by 
the  balls  around  him  ;  but  few  could  be  persuaded 
to  follow. 

The  British  commander  had  now  rallied  and 
re-organized  his  men ;  a  second  time  he  led  them 
against  the  Americans,  who  were  ordered  to 
reserve  their  fire,  till  the  enemy  should  be  nearer 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  175 

than  before.  Charlestown  was  at  this  time  set 
on  fire,  and,  as  the  troops  were  advancing,  the 
flames  ascended  on  their  left.  They  hurried  on, 
firing  with  the  coolness  and  precision  of  a  holiday 
review.  Once  more  the  American  lines  were 
still,  until  the  enemy  came  to  the  appointed  dis 
tance  ;  again  the  fire  blazed  forth  with  the  same 
fatal  precision  as  before,  and  the  ground  in  front 
of  the  intrenchments  was  covered  with  the  dead 
and  wounded. 

Nearly  a  thousand  of  the  enemy,  with  a  vast 
proportion  of  officers,  had  now  fallen ;  and  the 
order  to  retreat  was  given  for  the  second  time. 
Major  Small,  thesold  friend  of  Putnam,  was  stand 
ing  alone  ;  the  muskets  were  levelled  at  him,  when 
Putnam  threw  them  up  with  his  sword,  and  be 
retired  unhurt.  But  the  ammunition  of  the  Amer- 
cans  was  at  length  exhausted.  Colonel  Prescott 
ordered  his  men  to  club  their  muskets,  and  hurl 
the  stones  of  the  parapet  against  the  enemy 
should  they  venture  on  a  third  attack ;  while 
Putnam  galloped  to  the  rear,  and  labored  in  vain 
to  bring  up  the  scattered  reinforcements. 

The  British  threw  aside  their  knapsacks,  and 
were  ordered  to  reserve  their  fire,  and  trust  to  the 
bayonet.  They  then  concentrated  their  force  on 
the  redoubt  and  breastwork,  where  every  effort 
was  vainly  made  to  repel  them.  Prescott,  unpro 
vided  with  bayonets  and  exhausted  of  his  ammunl 


176  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

tion,  at  length  gave  the  reluctant  order  to  retreat ; 
and  his  troops  moved  slowly  down  the  western 
declivity  of  the  hill.  It  was  at  this  moment,  that 
the  gallant  Warren  fell.  The  American  left  con 
tinued  to  repel  the  enemy,  but  finding  their  flank 
opened  by  the  retreat  of  the  right,  were  compelled 
in  their  turn  to  retire.  Putnam  indignantly  urged 
the  troops  to  make  a  stand  upon  Bunker's  Hill. 
He  took  his  station  between  them  and  the  enemy, 
exposed  to  the  hottest  of  the  fire ;  but  the  men 
were  unable  to  encounter  the  British  bayonet. 
The  Americans  continued  their  retreat  over  the 
Neck  to  Prospect  and  Winter  Hills,  where  they 
took  up  their  position  for  the  night. 

In  presenting  this  sketch  of  a  battle,  so  impor 
tant  to  the  cause  of  freedom,  it  was  of  course 
impossible  to  enter  very  minutely  into  the  conduct 
and  services  of  others,  who  shared  with  General 
Putnam  the  glory  of  the  day  ;  and  this  has  been 
rendered  unnecessary  by  the  diligent  research  of 
Colonel  Swett,  who  has  written  a  very  interesting 
account  of  its  details. 

We  have  thus  far  refrained  from  saying  any 
thing  of  the  particular  command  allotted  to  Put 
nam  on  this  occasion.  In  the  work  to  which  we 
have  just  referred,  he  is  mentioned  as  having  the 
general  control  and  superintendence  of  the  expe 
dition  ;  and  this  opinion  is  supported  by  the  fol 
lowing  considerations.  He  was  the  only  general 


ISJiAEL     PUTNAM.  177 

officer  who  was  present  at  the  battle  ;  and  it  is 
very  improbable,  that  the  various  detachments 
should  have  been  left  without  a  commander  of  the 
whole.  He  appears  also  to  have  acted,  throughout 
the  battle  and  the  previous  arrangements  for  it,  in 
this  capacity. 

Such  was  the  purport  of  his  own  constant  dec 
larations  ;  and  if  any  evidence  were  wanting  of 
his  personal  honor,  it  may  be  found  in  the  language 
of  President  Dwight  respecting  him.  "  His  word 
was  regarded  as  an  ample  security  for  any  thing, 
for  which  it  was  pledged ;  and  his  uprightness 
commanded  absolute  confidence.''  On  the  other 
hand,  the  orderly  book  of  General  Ward  is  silent 
on  the  subject  of  the  expedition,  and  no  orders 
for  its  conduct  and  command  are  now  to  be  dis 
covered.  Under  these  circumstances,  it  is  diffi 
cult  to  speak  with  certainty  upon  the  question 
However  it  may  be  determined,  there  can  be  no 
doubt,  that  the  part  taken  by  General  Putnam 
was  in  the  highest  degree  important  and  effective. 

Shortly  after  the  battle  of  Bunker's  Hill,  it  was 
proposed  to  Putnam  by  Sir  William  Howe,  through 
the  medium  of  Major  Small,  to  accept  the  commis 
sion  of  major-general  in  the  British  service.  A 
large  pecuniary  offer  was  at  the  same  time  made 
to  him.  It  is  needless  to  say,  that  these  offers 
were  indignantly  rejected. 

VOL.    VII.  12 


178  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Putnam  is  appointed  Major- General  in  the  Con 
tinental  Army.  —  Remains  at  Cambridge  till 
the  Evacuation  of  Boston.  —  Commands  at  New 
York.  —  Suggests  a  Mode  of  obstructing  the 
Navigation  of  the  Hudson,  to  prevent  the  Ene 
my's  Vessels  from  ascending  it.  —  Commands 
on  Long  Island.  —  New  York  evacuated.  — 
Retreat  through  New  Jersey.  —  Putnam  sta 
tioned  at  Philadelphia,  and  afterwards  at 
Princeton.  —  Anecdotes. 

ON  the  15th  of  June,  George  Washington  was 
unanimously  elected  by  Congress  general  and 
commander-in-chief  of  the  American  army  ;  and 
Generals  Ward,  Lee,  Schuyler,  and  Putnam  were 
appointed  to  act  as  major-generals  under  him. 
He  arrived  at  Cambridge  on  the  2d  of  July,  and 
next  day  entered  upon  his  most  momentous  and 
responsible  command.  He  had  no  personal  ac 
quaintance  with  Putnam  before  this  period  ;  but 
he  found  him  bold,  energetic,  and  single-hearted, 
frank  and  generous  in  his  disposition,  and  diligent 
and  faithful  in  the  discharge  of  all  his  duties. 
"  You  seem,  General  Putnam,"  said  he,  .after  ex 
amining  a  work  which  had  been  erected  with  great 


ISRAEL,     PUTNAM.  179 

expedition,  "  to  have  the  faculty  of  infusing  your 
own  industrious  spirit  into  all  the  workmen  you 
employ." 

In  one  of  his  letters  from  Cambridge,  addressed 
to  the  President  of  Congress,  he  speaks  of  Put 
nam  as  "  a  most  valuable  man,  and  a  fine  executive 
officer "  ;  and  the  commendation  of  Washington 
was  never  thoughtlessly  bestowed.  These  are  the 
very  words,  which  the  reader  of  Putnam's  history 
would  probably  consider  best  suited  to  describe  his 
personal  and  military  character  ;  and  they  are  im 
portant,  also,  as  indicating  the  keen  glance  with 
which  Washington  penetrated  the  qualities  of  those 
around  him.  In  General  Putnam's  own  sphere, 
which  was  that  of  prompt  and  chivalrous  action, 
he  had  no  superior ;  and  it  costs  us  nothing  to 
admit,  that,  in  the  conduct  of  war  upon  a  very  ex 
tensive  scale,  he  might  be  excelled  by  some  of  his 
fellow  laborers  in  the  cause  of  freedom. 

During  the  remainder  of  this  season,  the  condi 
tion  of  the  army  was  such,  as  to  render  it  inexpe 
dient  to  venture  upon  hostile  operations ;  there 
was  little  or  no  powder  in  the  magazines,  and  the 
troops  were  in  every  respect  so  deficient  and  ill- 
provided,  that  General  Washington,  as  he  himself 
declared,  was  compelled  to  use  art  to  conceal  their 
situation  from  his  own  officers,  as  well  as  from  the 
enemy.  Meantime  the  people  of  the  country, 
not  knowing  or  unable  to  appreciate  these  diffi- 


ISO  AMERICAN     BIOGKAPHY. 

culties,  were  constantly  expecting  some  decisive 
blow ;  and  on  the  22d  of  December,  Congress 
resolved,  tbat,  if  General  Washington  and  his 
council  should  be  of  opinion,  that  a  successful 
attack  could  be  made  upon  the  troops  in  Boston, 
he  should  make  it,  "  notwithstanding  the  town  and 
property  in  it  might  thereby  be  destroyed." 

The  harbor    was    frozen  over  by   the    middle 

* 

of  February,  and  Washington  himself  was  then 
desirous  of  hazarding  a  general  assault ;  but 
nearly  all  his  officers  were  hostile  to  the 
scheme,  and  it  was  reluctantly  abandoned.  They 
recommended,  however,  in  partial  compliance 
with  his  suggestions,  that  preparations  should  be 
made  to  occupy  the  Heights  of  Dorchester ;  a 
measure,  which  could  scarcely  fail  to  be  followed 
by  a  battle.  It  was  determined,  also,  that,  if  a 
sufficient  number  of  the  enemy  should  march  to 
the  assault  of  that  position,  materially  to  reduce 
the  garrison  of  Boston,  a  body  of  four  thousand 
men,  under  the  command  of  General  Putnam, 
should  land  in  the  west  part  of  the  town,  and 
force  their  way  to  the  Neck  at  Roxbury,  where  the 
troops  from  that  quarter  were  to  join  them. 

The  Heights  of  Dorchester  were  accordingly 
occupied;  but  the  plan  formed  by. the  enemy  to 
carry  that  position  was  defeated  ,by  a  storm,  and 
on  the  17th  of  March,  the  town  was  evacuated. 
When  the  first  intelligence  of  the  preparations 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  181 

of  the  British  for  departure  was  received  at  Cam 
bridge,  several  regiments  under  the  command  ol 
Putnam  were  embarked  in  boats,  and  dropped 
down  the  river.  On  landing  at  its  mouth,  the  fact 
of  the  departure  of  the  British  was  fully  ascer 
tained,  and  a  detachment  was  ordered  to  take  pos 
session  of  the  town.  Another  detachment  marched 
in  at  the  same  time  from  Roxbury,  and  the  whole 
were  placed  under  the  command  of  Putnam, 
who  proceeded  to  possess  himself  of  all  the 
important  posts. 

Early  in  January,  General  Washington  had 
been  informed,  that  an  expedition  was  fitting  out 
at  Boston,  with  the  view  to  take  possession  of 
New  York  ;  and  he  ordered  General  Lee  to  repair 
immediately  thither,  with  such  volunteers  as  he 
could  assemble  on  his  march,  and  to  make  the 
best  arrangements  for  its  defence,  that  circum 
stances  would  admit.  General  Lee  was  also  in 
structed  to  disarm  all  disaffected  persons,  and  to 
examine  the  state  of  the  fortifications  on  the  North 
River,  in  order  to  secure  them  from  the  danger  of 
surprise. 

On  his  arrival  at  New  York,  it  was  determined 
to  fortify  some  commanding  position  in  the  city, 
to  erect  batteries  Sdr  Hell  Gate  for  the  security  of 
the  entrance  of  the  harbor,  as  well  as  for  the  pro 
tection  of  the  communication  with  Long  Island, 
where  a  fortified  camp  was  proposed  to  be  estab- 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

lished,  and  to  strengthen  and  garrison  the  defences 
of  the  Highlands. 

It  soon  appeared,  that  the  expedition  already 
mentioned  was  destined  farther  south ;  and  kee 
was  ordered  from  New  York  by  Congress,  on  the 
1st  of  March,  to  take  command  of  the  Southern 
department  of  the  army.  After  the  evacuation  of 
Boston,  General  Washington,  deeming  the  preser 
vation  of  New  York  as  of  the  last  importance  to  the 
cause,  sent  on  a  portion  of  his  troops  to  that  city ; 
and,  on  the  29th  of  March,  General  Putnam  was 
ordered  to  assume  the  command  at  that  station, 
and  to  execute  the  plan  of  defence,  which  had 
been  projected  by  General  Lee. 

General  Putnam,  on  his  arrival  at  New  York, 
devoted  himself,  with  the  utmost  assiduity,  to  the 
charge  with  which  he  was  intrusted.  The  British 
fleet  had  been  thus  far  amply  supplied  with  fresh 
provisions  from  the  shore  ;  a  species  of  accommo 
dation,  which  he  forthwith  made  the  subject  of  a 
pointed  prohibition ;  and  the  good  effects  of  this 
step  were  soon  exhibited  by  the  departure  of 
some  of  the  vessels  from  the  harbor.  By  the 
middle  of  April,  General  Washington  arrived  with 
the  greater  portion  of  his  army,  and  entered  on  the 
chief  command ;  but  the  preparations  for  defence 
were  still  prosecuted  by  General  Putnam.  On 
the  21st  of  May,  Washington,  in  obedience  to  the 
call  of  Congress,  went  to  Philadelphia  to  confer 


rSBAELIMTTNAM.  183 

with  them  respecting  the  condition  of  affairs , 
during  his  absence,  General  Putnam  was  com 
mander  of  the  army. 

The  judgment  of  Washington  had  easily  fore 
seen,  that  New  York  and  the  Hudson  would  be 
the  first  objects  of  the  attention  of  the  enemy. 
Early  in  July,  General  Howe,  who  had  sailed  for 
Halifax  after  evacuating  Boston,  returned  and 
landed  with  his  army  at  Staten  Island ;  where  he 
was  soon  joined  by  a  powerful  armament  from 
England,  under  the  command  of  Lord  Howe,  his 
brother.  Before  the  arrival  of  the  squadron,  Gen 
eral  Washington,  under  the  direction  of  Congress, 
had  instructed  General  Putnam  to  prepare  fire- 
rafts  and  gondolas  to  prevent  the  ships  from  enter 
ing  the  New  York  Bay  or  Narrows  ;  and  he  was 
also  charged  with  the  supervision  of  various  other 
schemes,  designed  for  a  similar  object. 

The  plan  of  destroying  the  British  fleet  by 
means  of  fire-ships,  had  been  suggested  to  Con 
gress  by  a  Mr.  Anderson.  General  Putnam  him 
self  projected  a  novel  species  of  chevaux-de-frise 
to  obstruct  the  channel.  Two  ships,  about  seventy 
feet  distant  from  each  other,  connected  by  the 
sterns  with  large  pieces  of  timber,  were  ordered  to 
be  sunk  with  their  bows  towards  the  shore.  But 
neither  of  these  plans  was  ultimately  successful ; 
the  chevaux-de-frise  were  broken  by  the  ships  of 
war,  and  an  attempt  made  with  the  fire-ships  to 


184  AMERICAN7     BIOGRAPHY. 

destroy  the  vessels,  that  had  passed  up  the  river, 
was  followed  only  by  the  burning  of  a  single 
tender. 

Another  experiment  was  made,  under  the  eye  of 
General  Putnam,  with  a  singular  machine,  which 
was  invented  by  David  Bushnell,  of  Connecticut. 
It  was  a  boat,  so  constructed  as  to  be  capable  of 
being  propelled  at  any  depth  below  the  surface  of 
the  water,  and  of  being  elevated  or  depressed  at 
pleasure ;  to  this  was  attached  a  magazine  of  pow 
der,  designed  to  be  secured  by  a  screw  to  the 
bottom  of  a  ship ;  when  the  magazine  should  h 
disengaged  from  the  boat,  certain  machinery  was 
to  be  set  in  motion,  which  would  cause  it  to  ex 
plode  at  any  time  desired.  The  whole  was  to  be 
managed  by  a  single  person,  stationed  in  the  boat. 
Mr.  Bushnell,  the  inventor,  was  too  feeble  to  un 
dertake  its  management  himself,  but  had  taught 
the  secret  to  his  brother,  who  chanced  to  be  ill  at 
the  time  when  the  British  fleet  arrived. 

His  place  was  supplied  by  a  sergeant  of  the 
army,  who  was  instructed  to  manage  the  machine 
as  well  as  time  and  circumstances  would  permit. 
Late  in  the  evening  he  set  forth  upon  his  expedition, 
and  sailed  directly  underneath  the  Eagle  man-of- 
war,  the  flag  ship  of  the  British  admiral ;  but  the 
screw,  with  which  he  was  to  penetrate  the  copper 
sheathing,  struck  some  iron  plates,  near  the  rudder ; 
the  tide  was  strong,  and  the  inexperience  of  the 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  185 

sergeant  prevented  him  from  applying  the  proper 
remedy  to  remove  the  difficulty,  before  the  day 
began  to  dawn.  He  therefore  abandoned  the 
magazine  to  its  fate,  and  reached  the  shore,  where 
General  Putnam  was  anxiously  awaiting  the  issue 
of  the  enterprise.  A  prodigious  explosion  fol 
lowed  at  some  distance  from  the  ship,  to  the 
infinite  consternation  and  perplexity  of  all  who 
were  unacquainted  with  the  secret ;  but  various 
circumstances  occurred  to  prevent  a  repetition  of 
the  experiment. 

As  the  safety  of  New  York  essentially  depended 
on  the  possession  of  Long  Island,  a  body  of  troops 
was  early  stationed  on  the  peninsula  of  Brook 
lyn,  where  a  camp  had  been  marked  out  and  for 
tified.  This  was  expected  to  be,  as  it  proved,  the 
first  object  of  the  enemy's  attack.  The  works  had 
been  erected  under  the  supervision  of  General 
Greene,  who  alone  possessed  a  thorough  knowl 
edge  of  the  posts  and  of  the  routes  by  which  the 
British  would  probably  approach;  but  he  was 
unfortunately  taken  ill,  and  the  command  de 
volved  on  General  Sullivan.  The  British  army 
anded  on  the  island  on  the  22d  of  August,  and  it 
oecame  certain  that  an  engagement  must  soon  take 
place.  On  the  23d,  General  Putnam  was  ordered 
with  reinforcements  to  take  the  command  at 
Brooklyn ;  but  the  time  intervening  between  his 
appointment  and  the  battle  was  too  short  to 

VII. P 


186  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY 

permit  him  to  obtain  the  essential  information,  to 
which  we  have  above  alluded.  The  British  army 
was  now  arranged  in  the  following  order.  Lord 
Cornwallis,  with  the  right  wing,  was  at  Flatland ; 
the  centre,  under  General  De  Heister,  was  at 
Flatbush  ;  the  left,  commanded  by  General  Grant, 
extended  to  the  western  shore ;  the  centre  being 
about  four  miles,  and  the  right  and  left  wings 
about  six  miles,  distant  from  the  American  lines  at 
Brooklyn.  Besides  the  direct  road  leading  from 
Flatbush  to  Brooklyn,  there  was  another  which 
led  more  circuitously  by  the  way  of  Bedford. 
A  strong  redoubt  had  been  erected  by  the  Ameri 
cans  on  the  former,  and  a  detachment  was  posted 
on  the  other ;  another  detachment  was  also  sta 
tioned  to  guard  the  passes  by  the  western  shore. 
General  Putnam  appears  to  have  expected,  that 
the  principal  attack  would  be  made  in  the  last  of 
these  directions. 

On  the  morning  of  the  27th,  General  Clinton 
led  the  British  van  on  the  road  to  Bedford,  de 
signing  to  turn  the  American  left,  while  De  Heister 
and  Grant  advanced  at  the  same  time  from  their 
respective  positions.  Lord  Stirling,  with  two 
regiments,  was  ordered  by  General  Putnam  to 
repel  the  corps  of  Grant;  General  Sullivan  ad 
vanced  on  the  direct  road  leading  to  Flatbush ; 
and  the  American  left,  which  consisted  of  two 
regiments,  under  the  command  of  their  respective 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  187 

colonels,  occupied  the  road  leading  from  that 
place  to  Bedford.  While  General  Clinton  was 
effecting  his  main  purpose  of  gaining  the  rear  of 
the  American  left,  attacks  were  made  by  Grant 
and  De  Heister  on  the  right  and  centre,  in  order 
to  withdraw  their  attention  from  this  most  decisive 
movement.  The  purpose  of  Clinton  was  at  length 
effected ;  the  British  centre,  which  had  hitherto 
advanced  only  to  divert  the  attention  of  the  Amer 
icans,  now  attacked  the  troops  of  Sullivan  ;  and 
these,  discovering  the  movement  of  Clinton  upon 
their  left,  were  broken  and  fled,  leaving  their 
general  a  prisoner. 

Lord  Stirling,  in  the  mean  time,  whose  situa 
tion  had  been  rendered  extremely  critical  by  the 
defeat  of  the  other  divisions,  gave  the  order  to 
retire ;  and,  to  cover  more  effectually  the  retreat 
of  the  main  body  of  his  detachment,  charged  a 
corps  of  the  British  under  Cornwallis  with  spirit, 
and  for  a  time  with  success ;  but  was  at  length 
compelled  to  surrender.  The  whole  American 
force  engaged  in  this  action,  amounted  to  about 
five  thousand  men,  while  the  British  army  ex 
ceeded  twice  that  number ;  but  the  loss  of  the 
Americans  was  comparatively  very  great.  It 
was  shown  by  the  result  of  the  battle,  that  the 
camp  of  Brooklyn  was  no  longer  tenable  ;  and,  on 
the  night  of  the  29th,  while  the  British  were 
encamped  within  six  hundred  yards  of  the  works, 


188  AMERICAN    BIOGRAPHY. 

the  troops  were  withdrawn  to  New  York,  by 
General  Washington  himself,  with  so  great  celerity 
and  skill,  that  nearly  all  the  artillery  and  stores 
were  saved.  The  movement  was  undiscovered  by 
the  enemy,  until  half  an  hour  after  the  works 
had  been  evacuated,  though  the  noise  of  their 
spades  and  pickaxes  was  distinctly  heard  within 
the  American  lines. 

It  was  now  obvious,  that  the  city  of  New  York 
must  be  sooner  or  later  abandoned  ;  but  the  prin 
cipal  officers  of  the  army  were  solicitous  to  retain 
possession  of  it,  as  long  as  might  be  in  their  power. 
The  army  was  arranged  in  three  divisions ;  one  of 
which,  under  General  Putnam,  was  stationed  in 
the  city,  another  at  Kingsbridge,  and  the  third 
occupied  an  intermediate  position,  so  that  it  could 
be  readily  brought  to  the  support  of  either. 

On  the  12th  of  September,  a  council  of  war 
came  to  the  resolution  to  evacuate  the  city,  and 
the  events  of  the  few  succeeding  days  demon 
strated,  that  this  measure  was  quite  indispensable. 
Three  days  after,  some  British  ships  ascended  the 
North  River  as  high  as  Bloomingdale,  while  Sir 
Henry  Clinton,  with  four  thousand  men,  landed  on 
the  eastern  shore  of  the  island,  at  Kipp's  Bay. 
Their  landing  was  covered  by  the  fire  of  five  ships 
of  war.  The  new  levies  stationed  to  defend  the 
works  at  this  position  fled,  without  waiting  for 
the  enemy ;  and  two  brigades  of  Putnam's  division, 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  189 

which  had  been  ordered  to  support  them,  imitated 
their  example  ;  breaking  at  the  approach  of  about 
sixty  of  the  British,  and  flying  without  firing  a 
single  shot.  General  Washington  met  them  in 
their  flight,  and  vainly  used  every  possible  effort 
to  rally  them  ;  he  was  left  alone  within  eighty 
yards  of  the  enemy ;  but  he  refused  to  fly,  and 
was  rescued  only  by  the  care  of  some  of  his  attend 
ants,  who  seized  his  horse's  bridle,  and  turned  him 
from  the  field.  Orders  were  immediately  given 
to  secure  the  Heights  of  Haerlem  ;  and  they  were 
at  once  occupied  by  the  fugitives  and  the  other 
troops  in  the  vicinity. 

The  main  road  leading  from  the  city  to  Kings- 
bridge  was  in  possession  of  the  enemy,  and  Gen 
eral  Putnam  resolved  to  secure  the  retreat  of  his 
division  by  the  route  of  Bloomingdale.  The  man 
ner  in  which  it  was  effected  will  be  best  described 
in  the  words  of  an  eyewitness. 

"  Having  myself,"  says  Colonel  Humphreys, 
"  been  a  volunteer  in  his  division,  and  acting  adju- 
int  to  the  last  regiment  that  left  the  city,  I  had 
frequent  opportunities,  that  day,  of  beholding  him 
(Putnam),  for  the  purpose  of  issuing  orders  and 
encouraging  the  troops,  flying,  on  his  horss  covered 
with  foam,  wherever  his  presence  was  most  neces 
sary.  Without  his  extraordinary  exertions,  the 
guards  must  have  been  inevitably  lost ;  and  it  is 
probable  the  entire  corps  would  have  been  cut  ID 
pieces. 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

"  When  we  were  not  far  from  Bloomingdale,  an 
aid-de-camp  came  from  him  at  full  speed,  to  inform 
that  a  column  of  British  infantry  was  descending 
upon  our  right.  Our  rear  was  soon  fired  upon, 
and  the  colonel  of  our  regiment,  whose  order  was 
just  communicated  for  the  front  to  file  off  to  the 
left,  was  killed  upon  the  spot.  With  no  other 
loss  we  joined  the  army,  after  dark,  upon  the 
Heigh ts  of  Haerlem.  Before  our  brigades  came  in, 
we  were  given  up  for  lost  by  all  our  friends.  So 
critical  indeed  was  our  situation,  and  so  narrow  the 
gap  by  which  we  had  escaped,  that,  the  instant  we 
had  passed,  the  enemy  closed  it  by  extending  their 
line  from  river  to  river." 

The  enemy's  shipping  having  passed  up  the 
North  River,  notwithstanding  the  obstructions,  the 
American  army  was  withdrawn  from  the  island  of 
New  York  to  the  neighborhood  of  the  White  Plains. 
On  the  28th  of  October,  the  British  forces  ad 
vanced  in  order  of  battle,  and  a  brigade  of  Hessians 
was  detached  to  dislodge  a  corps  of  about  sixteen 
hundred  militia  from  Chatterton's  Hill,  where  they 
were  stationed  to  cover  the  right  flank  of  the 
army.  After  a  sharp  encounter,  the  Hessians 
remained  in  possession  of  the  hill.  Major-General 
Putnam,  who  had  been  ordered  to  support  the 
militia,  met  them  in  full  retreat,  and  it  was  then  too 
late  to  attempt  to  retake  the  post ;  but  no  attack 
was  made  upon  the  camp  of  Washington,  who 


ISRAEL     PCTNAM.  191 

withdrew,  on  the  night  of  the  1st  of  November, 
to  the  heights  in  the  rear  of  his  first  camp. 

A  few  days  after,  General  Putnam  was  sent 
across  the  Hudson,  to  provide  against  a  descent 
of  the  enemy  upon  New  Jersey  ;  and  on  the 
13th,  General  Washington  passed  the  river  with 
about  five  thousand  men,  and  took  post  at  Hack- 
insac.  And,  when  Fort  Washington  and  Fort 
Lee  had  fallen,  began  the  retreat  of  the  "  phan 
tom  of  an  army,"  as  it  was  emphatically  called 
by  Hamilton,  through  New  Jersey ;  when  Wash 
ington  was  compelled  to  face  a  powerful  army 
with  scarce  three  thousand  men  ;  unprovided  with 
all  that  makes  a  soldier's  life  endurable,  and  this 
too  in  the  depth  of  winter,  and  abandoned  by 
General  Lee,  to  whom  the  command  on  the  east 
bank  of  the  Hudson  had  unfortunately  been  con 
fided. 

There  was  no  darker  period  in  the  history  of 
the  Revolution ;  scarcely  any  spirit,  but  that  of 
Washington,  was  unshaken  by  the  accumulated 
weight  of  difficulty  and  disaster ;  nor  could  he, 
without  deep  emotion,  witness  the  suffering,  which 
he  had  no  power  to  relieve. 

Throughout  this  season  of  peril,  until  the  army 
had  crossed  the  Delaware,  General  Putnam  was 
at  his  commander's  side  ;  and  it  may  be  well  im 
agined,  that  he  would  have  been  one  of  the  last 
to  intermit  his  efforts  in  the  almost  hopeless  cause. 


192  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

The  passage  of  the  Delaware  was  effected  on  the 
8th  of  December ;  it  became  now  all-important  to 
prevent  the  enemy  from  occupying  Philadelphia, 
and  General  Putnam  was  ordered  to  make  imme 
diate  provision  for  its  fortification.  Congress  had 
already  resolved  that  it  should  be  defended  to  the 
last  extremity. 

At  this  time  an  incident  occurred,  which 
strikingly  illustrates  the  foresight  and  sagacity  of 
Washington.  A  report  had  been  circulated,  that 
Congress  was  about  to  separate  ;  and  on  the  llth 
of  December  it  was  resolved  by  that  Assembly, 
that  the  commander-in-chief  "  be  desired  to  contra 
diet  this  scandalous  suggestion  of  the  enemy,  this 
Congress  having  a  better  opinion  of  the  spirit  and 
vigor  of  the  army,  and  of  the  good  people  of  these 
States,  than  to  suppose  it  can  be  necessary  tc 
disperse  ;  nor  will  they  adjourn  from  the  city  01 
Philadelphia  in  the  present  state  of  affairs,  unti . 
the  last  necessity  shall  direct  it."  This  resolution 
was  fonvarded  on  the  same  day  to  Washington, 
who  was  at  once  convinced  that  its  publication 
would  be  attended  with  evil  consequences,  and 
took  upon  himself  the  responsibility  of  suppressing 
it  in  the  next  day's  orders. 

In  a  letter  addressed  on  the  12th  to  the  Presi 
dent  of  Congress  he  says  ;  "  I  am  persuaded,  if  the 
subject  is  taken  up  and  reconsidered,  that  Con 
gress  will  concur  with  me  in  sentiment.  I  doubt 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  193 

not,  but  there  are  some,  who  have  propagated  the 
report ;  but  what  if  they  have  ?  Their  remaining 
in  or  leaving  Philadelphia  must  be  governed  by 
circumstances  and  events.  If  their  departure 
should  become  necessary,  it  will  be  right ;  on  the 
other  hand,  if  there  should  not  be  a  necessity  for 
it,  they  will  remain,  and  their  continuance  will 
show  the  report  to  be  the  production  of  calumny 
and  falsehood.  In  a  word,  Sir,  I  conceive  it  a 
matter,  that  may  be  as  well  disregarded  ;  and  that 
the  removal  or  staying  of  Congress,  depending  en 
tirely  on  events,  should  not  have  been  the  subject 
of  a  resolve." 

Well  was  it  for  Congress,  that  their  resolution 
was  suppressed  by  Washington ;  for,  on  the  self 
same  day  on  which  he  wrote,  that  body  adjourned 
to  meet  again  in  Baltimore  on  the  20th  of  Decem 
ber.  It  appears,  that  General  Putnam,  who  had 
entered  on  the  command,  and  General  Mifflin,  his 
predecessor  in  the  station,  had  been  summoned 
by  Congress  to  a  conference  ;  and  it  was  in  con* 
sequence  of  their  judicious  suggestions,  that  the 
resolve  for  an  adjournment  was  adopted.* 

"Upon  the  salvation  of  Philadelphia,"  was  the 
earnest  language  of  Washington,.  "  our  cause 
almost  depends  ; "  and  his  selection  of  General  Put 
nam  to  command  it  at  this  crisis  denotes  the  confi- 


*  See  Writings  of  Washington,  Sparks's  edition,  VoL 
IV.  p.  210. 

VOL.  VII.  13 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

dence  reposed  by  the  commander-in-chief  in  his 
energy  and  skill.  Nor  were  his  expectations 
disappointed ;  General  Putnam  entered  on  his 
duties  with  his  usual  diligence,  forwarded  with 
all  his  power  the  construction  of  the  fortifications, 
and  labored  with  untiring  zeal  to  reconcile  con 
tending  factions,  and  to  animate  the  citizens  to 
efforts  for  their  own  defence. 

While  he  was  thus  employed,  General  Wash 
ington  was  preparing  to  attack  the  enemy  at 
Trenton.  It  was  a  part  of  his  original  plan  to  call 
Putnam  to  cooperate  in  the  enterprise,  with  the 
troops  at  Philadelphia  and  a  corps  of  the  Penn 
sylvania  militia;  but  he  was  induced  to  change 
this  plan  by  an  apprehension  of  an  insurrection 
among  the  Royalists  within  the  city.  General 
Putnam  had  therefore  no  share  in  the  victory  at 
Trenton,  nor  in  that  of  Princeton,  by  which  it  was 
succeeded. 

So  great  was  the  effect  of  these  enterprises  on 
theenemy,  that  Washington  began  to  entertain  the 
hope  of  driving  them  beyond  the  limits  of  New 
Jersey.  On  the  5th  of  January,  1777,  he  ordered 
General  Putnam  to  march  with  the  troops  under 
his  command  to  Crosswick,  a  few  miles  southeast 
of  Trenton,  using  the  utmost  precaution  to  guard 
against  surprise,  and  laboring  to  create  an  impres 
sion  that  his  force  was  twice  as  great  as  it  actually 
was.  The  object  of  the  commander-in-chief  was 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  195 

partially  accomplished  by  the  concentration  of  the 
British  forces  at  New  Brunswick  and  Amboy ; 
and  General  Putnam  was  soon  after  ordered  to 
take  post  at  Princeton,  where  he  passed  the  re 
mainder  of  the  winter.  This  position  was  scarcely 
fifteen  miles  distant  from  the  enemy's  camp  at 
New  Brunswick  ;  but  the  troops  of  Putnam  at  no 
time  exceeded  a  few  hundred,  and  were  once  fewer 
in  number  than  the  miles  of  frontier  he  was 
expected  to  guard. 

Captain  Macpherson,  a  Scotch  office^:  of  the 
seventeenth  British  regiment,  had  received  in  the 
battle  of  Princeton  a  severe  wound,  which  was 
thought  likely  to  prove  fatal.  When  General  Put 
nam  reached  that  place,  he  found  that  it  had  been 
deemed  inexpedient  to  provide  medical  aid  and 
other  comforts  for  one  who  was  likely  to  require 
them  for  so  short  a  period  ;  but  by  his  orders  the 
captain  was  attended  with  the  utmost  care,  and  at 
length  recovered.  He  was  warm  in  the  expres 
sion  of  his  gratitude  ;  and  one  day,  when  Putnam, 
in  reply  to  his  inquiries,  had  assured  him  that  he 
was  a  Yankee,  averred  that  he  had  not  believed  it 
possible  for  any  human  being  but  a  Scotchman 
to  be  so  kind  and  generous.  • 

Indeed,  the  benevolence  of  the  general  was  one 
day  put  to  a  somewhat  delicate  test.  The  patient, 
when  his  recovery  was  considered  doubtful,  so 
licited  that  a  friend  in  the  British  army  at  New 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

Brunswick  might  be  permitted  to  come  and  aid 
him  in  the  preparation  of  his  will.  Full  sorely 
perplexed  was  General  Putnam,  by  his  desire  on 
the  one  hand  to  gratify  the  wishes  of  his  prisoner, 
and  a  natural  reluctance  on  the  other,  to  permit 
the  enemy  to  spy  out  the  nakedness  of  his  camp 
His  good  nature  at  length  prevailed,  but  not  at 
the  expense  of  his  discretion ;  and  a  flag  of  truce 
was  despatched,  with  orders  not  to  return  with  the 
captain's  friend  until  after  dark. 

By  the  time  of  his  arrival,  lights  were  displayed 
in  all  the  apartments  of  the  College  Hall,  and  in 
all  the  vacant  houses  in  the  town  ;  and  the  army, 
which  then  consisted  of  fifty  effective  men;  were 
marched  about  with  remarkable  celerity,  some 
times  in  close  column,  and  sometimes  in  detach 
ments,  with  unusual  pomp  and  circumstance, 
around  the  quarters  of  the  captain.  It  was  sub 
sequently  ascertained,  as  we  are  assured  by  Colo 
nel  Humphreys,  that  the  force  of  Putnam  was 
computed  by  the  framer  of  the  will,  on  his  return 
to  the  British  camp,  to  consist,  on  the  lowest 
estimate,  of  five  thousand  men. 

During  his  command  at  Princeton,  General 
Putnam  was  employed,  with  activity  and  much 
success,  in  affording  protection  to  the  persons  in 
his  neighborhood,  who  remained  faithful  to  the 
American  cause.  They  were  exposed  to  great 
danger,  from  the  violent  incursions  of  the  Loyalists; 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  197 

*nd  constant  vigilance  was  required,  in  order  to 
guard  against  the  depredations  of  the  latter. 
Through  the  whole  winter  there  raged  a  war  of 
skirmishes.  On  the  17th  of  February,  Colonel 
Nielson,  with  a  party  of  one  hundred  and  fifty 
militia,  was  sent  by  General  Putnam  to  surprise  a 
small  corps  of  Loyalists  who  were  fortifying  them 
selves  at  Lawrence's  Neck.  They  were  of  the 
corps  of  Cortlandt  Skinner,  of  New  Jersey,  a  brig 
adier-general  of  Provincials  in  the  British  service. 
We  know  not  how  to  relate  the  result  of  this  affair 
more  briefly  than  it  is  given  in  the  following  extract 
from  a  letter  addressed  by  Putnam  to  the  Council 
of  Safety  of  Pennsylvania,  on  the  day  after  it 
occurred. 

"  Yesterday  evening,  Colonel  Nielson,  with  a 
hundred  and  fifty  men,  at  Lawrence's  Neck, 
attacked  sixty  men  of  Cortlandt  Skinner's  brig 
ade,  commanded  by  the  enemy's  renowned  land 
pilot,  Richard  Stockton,  and  took  the  whole  pris 
oners  ;  among  them  the  major,  a  captain,  and  three 
subalterns,  with  seventy  stand  of  arms.  Fifty  of 
the  Bedford  Pennsylvania  riflemen  behaved  like 
veterans." 

On  another  occasion,  he  detached  Major  Smith 
with  a  few  riflemen,  against  a  foraging  party  of 
the  enemy,  and  followed  him  witli  the  rest  of  his 
forces;  but,  before  he  came  up,  the  party  had 
been  captured  by  the  riflemen.  These,  and  other 


1 98  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

similar  incidents,  may  appear  individually  as  of 
little  moment ;  but  before  the  close  of  the  winter, 
General  Putnam  had  thus  taken  nearly  a  thou 
sand  prisoners,  and  had  accomplished  the  more 
important  object  of  keeping  the  disaffected  in 
continual  awe. 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  199 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Putnam  commands  in  the  Highlands.  —  Opera 
tions  during  the  Campaign.  —  The  British 
ascend  the  Hudson.  —  General  Putnam  super 
intends  the  Construction  of  the  Fortifications 
at  West  Point.  —  His  perilous  Adventure  at 
Horseneck.  —  Retires  from  the  Army  in  Conse 
quence  of  a  Paralytic  Attack.  — His  Death.  — 
His  military  and  personal  Character. 

IN  the  month  of  May,  1777,  General  Putnam 
was  ordered  by  Washington  to  assume  the  chief 
command  of  the  army  of  the  Highlands,  on  Hud 
son's  River ;  and  was  particularly  charged  with  the 
execution  of  a  plan,  devised  by  Knox  and  Greene, 
to  obstruct  the  passage  of  the  enemy's  ships  in 
the  river.  Much  uncertainty  rested  at  this  time 
on  the  ultimate  purposes  of  the  British  generals, 
Burgoyne  and  Howe ;  and  it  became  necessary  for 
the  Americans,  with  forces  quite  inadequate  to  the 
purpose,  to  prepare  for  the  defence  of  the  three 
important  points  of  Ticonderoga,  Philadelphia,  and 
the  Highlands. 

Sometimes  there  was  reason  to  believe  that 
Burgoyne  and  Howe  intended  to  unite  their  forces 
on  the  Hudson  River ;  at  others,  that  the  troops 


200  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

of  the  former  would  be  transported  by  water  ior 
the  purpose  of  reinforcing  General  Howe,  without 
advancing  from  Canada ;  and,  for  a  considerable 
peuiod,  the  destination  of  the  force  of  Howe  him 
self,  who  sailed  with  the  British  fleet  from  New 
York  towards  the  close  of  July,  was  wrapped  in 
equal  mystery.  As  circumstances  appeared  to 
favor  either  of  these  suppositions,  the  American 
forces  at  different  stations,  including  the  greater 
part  of  that  of  Putnam,  were  detached  in  different 
directions.  All  that  remained  fcr  him  to  do  was 
to  stand  ready  to  execute  the  orders  of  Washing 
ton,  and  to  transmit  such  intelligence  of  the 
enemy's  movements  as  came  into  his  possession ; 
and  he  attended  to  these  objects  with  the  activity 
and  vigilance  required  by  the  exigency. 

On  the  3d  of  August,  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  who 
commanded  the  British  force  in  the  city  of  New 
York,  sent  up  a  flag  of  truce  to  General  Putnam 
at  Pcekskill.  Edmund  Palmer,  a  lieutenant  of  a 
Tory  regiment,  had  been  detected  in  the  American 
camp,  and  it  was  the  purpose  of  Clinton  to  claim 
him  as  an  officer  in  the  British  service.  The  fol 
lowing  was  the  reply  sent  back  by  Putnam. 

"Head  Quarters,  1th  August,  1777. 
"  Edmund  Palmer,  an  officer  in   the  enemy's 
service,    was  taken  as  a  spy    lurking  within   our 
lines  ;  he  has  been  tried  as  a  spy,  condemned  as  a 


I  S  R  A  E  L     P  U  T  N  A  M.  20 1 

spy,  and  shall  be  executed  as  a  spy,  and  the  flag 
is  ordered  to  depart  immediately. 

"  ISRAEL,  PUTNAM. 
^  "  P.  S.    He  has  been  accordingly  executed." 

A  few  weeks  afterwards,  Sir  Henry  Clinton 
availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  afforded  by  the 
absence  of  the  main  American  army,  to  make  an 
incursion  into  the  interior  of  New  Jersey.  On  the 
12th  of  September,  with  a  force  consisting  of  aboul 
two  thousand  men,  in  four  divisions,  he  proceeded 
to  ravage  the  country,  with  little  opposition.  When 
General  Putnam  received  intelligence  of  this 
movement,  he  sent  General  McDougall  across  the 
Hudson  with  fifteen  hundred  men  ;  but  they  were 
too  late  to  overtake  the  enemy,  who  returned  on 
the  16th  to  New  York,  with  considerable  booty. 

General  Putnam  himself  now  devised  a  plan  for 
attacking  the  enemy  at  the  four  different  points  of 
Staten  Island,  Long  Island,  Paulus  Hook,  and  the 
Island  of  New-  York,  at  the  same  time.  He  had 
been  encouraged  to  expect  the  aid  of  large 
bodies  of  militia  from  Connecticut,  and  hoped  to 
derive  similar  assistance  from  New  Jersey  and 
New  York  ;  and  thus  supported,  he  entertained 
no  doubt  of  his  ability  to  succeed  in  the  enterprise. 

On  the  23d  of  September,  however,  he  received 
an  urgent  letter  from  Washington,  which  compelled 
him  to  abandon  his  design.  Affairs  were  assuming 
vn. — a 


202  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

a  critical  aspect  in  the  neighborhood  of  Philadel 
phia  ;  and  twenty-five  hundred  men  were  sum 
moned  to  the  main  army  from  the  force  of  Putnam, 
who  was  instructed  to  call  in  the  militia  to  supply 
their  place.  For  this  purpose  he  made  instant 
requisition  on  the  governors  of  Connecticut  and 
New  York ;  but,  as  no  hostile  demonstrations  ap 
peared,  and  the  militia  were  impatient  of  deten 
tion  at  the  time  of  harvest,  he  discharged  such 
portions  of  them  as  had  not  spontaneously  deserted 
him. 

His  force  now  consisted  of  about  fifteen  hundred 
men,  stationed  at  Peekskill,  on  the  east  side  of  the 
Hudson.  The  defences  of  this  river  had  employed 
much  of  the  attention  cf  General  Washington,  who 
relied  upon  them  to  arrest  the  progress  of  the 
enemy.  Fort  Independence  was  the  lowest  on  the 
eastern  side,  just  above  Peekskill ;  four  or  five 
miles  higher,  on  the  opposite  bank,  were  Forts 
Clinton  and  Montgomery,  and  about  two  miles 
above,  on  an  island  near  the  eastern  shore,  was 
Fort  Constitution. 

Forts  Clinton  and  Montgomery,  which  may  be 
considered  as  one,  were  regarded  a«  the  strongest ; 
and  various  obstructions,  defended  by  two  frigates 
and  a  galley,  were  thrown  across  the  river  at.  their 
base.  The  garrison  consisted  of  about  six  hundred 
men,  under  the  command  of  Governor  Clinton, 
of  New  York.  Partly  with  the  view  of  destroying 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  203 

some  military  stores  collected  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  partly  to  make  a  diversion  in  favor  of  General 
Burgoyne,  an  expedition  against  these  fortresses 
was  undertaken  by  Sir  Henry  Clinton. 

On  the  5th  of  October,  he  landed  at  Verplanck's 
Point,  just  below  Peekskill,  on  the  east  bank  of 
the  Hudson,  with  about  three  thousand  men ;  and 
General  Putnam  retired  on  their  approach  to  the 
high  grounds  in  his  rear.  The  next  morning, 
under  cover  of  a  fog,  a  portion  of  the  British 
crossed  the  river  to  Stony  Point,  and  marched  un 
observed  through  the  mountains  in  the  direction 
of  Forts  Montgomery  and  Clinton.  Governor 
Clinton,  at  ten  o'clock,  received  the  intelligence 
of  their  approach,  and  sent  for  reinforcements  to 
Putnam,  who,  believing  that  Fort  Independence 
was  the  real  object  of  the  enemy,  was  engaged,  as 
well  as  the  state  of  the  atmosphere  would  permit, 
in  reconnoitring  their  position.  The  express,  sent 
by  Clinton,  failed  to  reach  him.* 

*  This  failure  is  attributed  by  Chief  Justice  Marshall 
to  the  absence  of  General  Putnam  for  the  purpose  of 
reconnoitring,  when  the  messenger  arrived.  Colonel 
Humphreys,  who  was  upon  the  spot,  says,  that  the  letter 
of  Clinton  miscarried  through  the  treachery  of  the  mes 
senger  ;  that  Putnam,  astonished  at  hearing  nothing  from 
the  enemy,  rode  to  reconnoitre  them,  and  that  he  (Col 
onel  Humphreys)  being  alone  at  head-quarters  when  the 
firing  began,  urged  Colonel  Wyllys,  the  senior  officer  in 
camp,  to  send  all  the  men  not  on  duty  to  Fort  Montgom 
ery  ;  which  was  immediately  done,  but  unhappily  too  late 


AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

At  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  both  of  the 
forts  were  assaulted  at  the  same  time  by  the 
British.  They  were  resolutely  defended  until 
dark,  when  they  were  entered  by  the  enemy  at 
various  points,  and  a  portion  of  the  garrison  made 
prisoners.  The  greater  number,  from  their  familiar 
knowledge  of  the  mountain  passes,  and  under 
cover  of  the  night,  effected  their  escape.  No 
intimation  of  the  assault  was  received  at  the  camp, 
until  it  was  made  known  by  the  firing  on  the  west 
bank  of  the  river  ;  a  reinforcement  of  five  hundred 
men  was  then  despatched,  but,  before  they  could 
cross  the  river,  the  forts  were  in  possession  of  the 
enemy. 

In  consequence  of  this  disaster,  Forts  Indepen 
dence  and  Constitution  were  evacuated ;  General 
Putnam  was  compelled  to  retire  to  Fishkill ;  the 
entire  command  of  the  river  was  lost,  and  the  way 
was  thrown  open  to  Sir  Henry  Clinton  to  ascend 
it.  In  the  course  of  a  week,  the  arrival  of 
the  militia  having  increased  the  force  of  Putnam 
to  six  thousand  men,  he  retook  Peekskill  and  the 
mountain  passes,  and  employed  the  main  body 
of  his  troops  in  watching  the  progress  of  the  Brit 
ish  up  the  river.  While  on  his  march  with  this 
design,  he  received  intelligence  of  the  capitulation 
of  Burgoyne,  and  five  thousand  men  were  sent  to 
his  aid  from  the  northern  army  ;  but,  before  they 
arrived,  the  British  had  returned  to  New  York. 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  205 

When  the  fact  of  the  surrender  of  Burgoyne 
had  been  ascertained  by  Washington,  but  before 
he  was  aware  of  the  return  of  Clinton  to  New 
York,  he  suggested  to  General  Putnam  the  expe 
diency  of  uniting  his  forces  with  those  of  Gates,  to 
gain,  if  possible,  the  rear  of  the  British,  and  take 
possession  of  the  city.  This  was  on  the  25th  of 
October,  several  days  after  the  convention  of  Sar 
atoga,  of  which  Washington  had  not  yet  been 
informed  by  Gates. 

Five  days  afterwards,  when  the  commander- 
in-chief  had  been  apprized  of  the  return  of  the 
British  to  New  York,  Colonel  Hamilton,  one  of 
his  aids-de-camp,  in  obedience  to  the  decision  of  a 
council  of  war,  was  despatched  by  him  to  Putnam, 
to  direct  him  to  send  forward  the  brigade  he  had 
received  from  the  northern  army.  Having  done 
this,  Hamilton  proceeded  to  the  camp  of  Gates,  to 
instruct  him  to  detach  a  large  portion  of  his  force  to 
the  vicinity  of  Philadelphia.  The  British  force  in 
Philadelphia  and  its  neighborhood  amounted  to 
ten  thousand  men ;  while  that  of  Washington,  the 
militia  included,' whose  stay  was  very  uncertain, 
did  not  much  exceed  that  number. 

Oti  his  return  from  Albany,  Hamilton  addressed 
a  letter  to  General  Putnam,  expressing  his  sur 
prise  and  regret  that  the  orders  of  the  commander- 
in-chief  had  not  been  complied  with.  This  letter 
was  forwarded  to  Washington  by  Putnam,  with  a 


206  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

complaint  that  the  reflections  of  Hamilton  were 
illiberal  and  unjust ;  that  he  was  unconscious  of 
having  omitted  any  portion  of  his  duty  ;  but  that, 
without  explicit  orders  from  Washington,  he  could 
not  think  of  remaining  at  his  post,  and  sending  his 
troops  away  ;  the  effect  of  which  would  certainly 
be  the  reinforcement  of  Howe's  army  from  New 
York.  The  course  of  Hamilton  having  been  in 
conformity  with  the  orders  of  Washington,  was 
fully  approved  by  him,  and  he  expressed  dissatis 
faction  at  the  delay  of  General  Putnam  in  com 
plying  with  his  orders. 

This  is  the  only  instance,  in  which  the  conduct 
of  General  Putnam  gave  occasion  to  the  censure 
of  his  commander ;  and  it  is  probably  to  be  attrib 
uted  to  a  disposition,  which  he  had  long  cherished, 
to  attempt  a  descent  upon  New  York,  and  a  too 
high  estimate  of  the  importance  of  such  an  enter 
prise. 

After  the  departure  of  the  troops.  General 
Putnam  moved  down  the  Hudson  with  a  part  of 
his  remaining  force.  When  General  Dickinson 
made  a  descent  upon  Staten  Island,  he  ordered 
two  brigades  to  march  upon  Kingsbridge,  in  order 
to  divert  the  attention  of  the  enemy ;  but  their 
purpose  had  been  penetrated,  and  the  British 
withdrew  at  their  approach. 

He  now  took  post  at  New  Rochelle,  and  ar 
ranged  a  plan  for  attacking  the  forts  at  Satauket 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  207 

and  Huntington,  on  Long  Island ;  but  both  were 
in  the  mean  time  evacuated. 

This  was  followed  by  another  enterprise,  on  a 
more  extensive  scale  ;  the  object  of  which  was  to 
destroy  the  materials  collected  on  Long  Island  for 
barracks  in  New  York,  together  with  the  ships 
sent  thither  to  obtain  wood  from  Newport,  to 
attack  a  regiment  stationed  about  eight  miles 
eastward  from  Jamaica,  and  to  capture  or  destroy 
the  public  stores.  The  execution  of  this  scheme 
was  intrusted  to  General  Parsons  and  Colonel 
Webb ;  the  former  of  whom  succeeded  in  taking 
a  few  prisoners,  and  in  destroying  a  sloop,  to 
gether  with  a  large  quantity  of  boards  and  timber ; 
but  the  other  portions  of  the  enterprise  were 
unsuccessful. 

About  the  middle  of  December,  General  Put 
nam,  in  obedience  to  the  orders  of  Washington, 
returned  with  his  troops  to  the  Highlands,  where 
he  spent  the  winter ;  a  winter,  which  was  passed 
by  Washington  in  his  dreary  encampment  at 
Valley  Forge ;  in  the  course  of  which  he  wrote, 
(and  a  darker  picture  of  suffering  could  not  easily 
l)e  drawn,)  that  he  had  "  no  less  than  two  thou 
sand  eight  hundred  and  ninety-eight  men  in  camp 
unfit  for  duty,  because  they  were  barefoot  and 
otherwise  naked."  Nor  was  the  situation  of 
Putnam  in  any  respect  more  enviable  ;  his  troops 


208  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

bore    their    full    share    of    suffering    and  priva 
tion.* 

General  Washington  had  never  lost  sight  of  the 
defences  of  the  Hudson  ;  and,  on  the  25th  of 
January,  he  urged  on  General  Putnam  the  neces 
sity  of  placing  them  on  a  respectable  footing  he  fore 
the  spring.  All  the  old  works  had  been  demol 
ished  by  the  British.  Early  in  January  the  several 
positions  had  been  examined  by  Putnam,  in  com 
pany  with  Governor  Clinton  and  others ;  all  of 
whom,  with  the  exception  of  Radiere,  a  French 
engineer,  agreed  in  selecting  West  Point,  as  the 
best  position  for  a  fortress.  Colonel  Humphreys 
claims  for  General  Putnam  the  merit  of  this  selec 
tion.  However  this  may  be,  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  he  is  entitled  to  a  large  portion  of  the 
credit,  particularly  as  it  was  made  in  opposition  to 
the  remonstrances  of  the  engineer,  who  enjoyed 
the  confidence  of  Congress  and  of  Washington. 
Their  judgment  was  confirmed  by  that  of  the 
committee  of  the  Assembly  and  Council  of  New 
York,  among  whom  was  Governor  Clinton,  and 
the  ground  was  broken  in  the  month  of  January, 

*  On  the  13th  of  February,  1778,  General  Putnam 
wrote  to  Washington  as  follows :  "  Dubois'  regiment  is 
unfit  to  be  ordered  on  duty,  there  being  not  one  blanket 
in  the  regiment  Very  few  have  either  a  shoe  or  a 
shirt,  and  most  of  them  have  neither  stockings,  breeches, 
nor  overalls." 


1311ASL.     PUTNAM.  209 

By  a  brigade  despatched  by  Putnam  for  the 
purpose. 

Congress  had  directed  that  an  inquiry  should 
be  made  into  the  causes  of  the  loss  of  Forts  Clin 
ton  and  Montgomery  ;  and  General  Putnam,  who 
had  on  the  12th  of  February  returned  to  Connec 
ticut  on  a  visit  to  his  family,  was  of  course  required 
to  attend,  as  the  commander  of  the  army  of  the 
Highlands  at  the  time  of  the  disaster;  but  the 
report  of  the  court,  constituted  for  this  purpose, 
attached  no  blame  to  any  officer.  He  was,  how 
ever,  superseded  in  his  command ;  and  the  cir 
cumstances  attending  this  change  demand  some 
notice. 

In  a  letter  addressed  to  him  by  Washington  on 
the  16th  of  March,  we  find  the  following  passage ; 
"  General  McDougall  is  to  take  the  command  of 
the  army  of  the  Highlands.  My  reason  for  making 
this  change  is  owing  to  the  prejudices  of  the  peo 
ple,  which,  whether  well  or  ill  grounded,  must  be 
indulged  ;  and  I  should  think  myself  wanting  in 
justice  to  the  public  and  candor  towards  you,  were 
I  to  continue  you  in  a  command,  after  I  have  been 
almost  in  direct  terms  informed,  that  the  people  of 
New  York  will  not  render  the  necessary  support 
and  assistance,  while  you  remain  at  the  head  of 
that  department." 

The  complaints  to  which  Washington  refers 
were  very  general,  and  had  probably  their  origin 

VOL..  VH. — R  14 


210  AMERICAN    B1OOKAPHY. 

chiefly  in  the  ill  success  of  Putnam's  efforts  to 
prevent  the  incursions  of  the  enemy,  and  the  loss 
and  inconvenience,  which  were  thus  occasioned. 
General  Schuyler's  history,  however,  is  sufficient 
to  show,  that  such  prejudices  are  not  always  wel? 
founded  in  proportion  to  their  violence ;  though 
in  this  instance  it  was  necessary  for  the  com- 
mander-in-chief  to  yield  to  them,  without  deciding 
the  question  of  their  justness. 

Among  the  charges  urged  against  him,  was  that 
of  exercising  too  much  lenity  in  his  treatment  of 
the  Tories,  and  of  too  great  facility  in  allowing  in 
tercourse  with  the  enemy.  His  situation  was  cer 
tainly  a  difficult  one ;  his  disposition  inclined  him 
to  alleviate  as  much  as  possible  the  evils  resulting 
both  from  the  civil  war  which  was  raging  in  that 
quarter,  and  the  contest  with  the  foreign  enemy  ; 
nor  is  it  certain  that  a  different  course  would  have 
relieved  him  from  all  imputation. 

Colonel  Humphreys  has  given  us  an  explana  • 
tion  of  these  circumstances,  which  is  entitled  to 
much  consideration,  as  proceeding  from  one,  who 
had  every  opportunity  to  ascertain  the  truth.  He 
declares,  that  General  Putnam  became  the  object 
of  this  prejudice  in  consequence  of  his  humanity, 
in  showing  all  the  indulgence  he  could,  consist 
ently  with  duty.  "  He  had  conceived,"  adds  this 
writer,  "  an  unconquerable  aversion  to  many  of 
the  persons  who  were  intrusted  with  the  disposa 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM.  211 

of  Tory  property,  because  he  believed  them  to 
have  been  guilty  of  peculation,  and  other  infamous 
practices.  But,  although  the  enmity  between  him 
and  the  sequestrators  was  acrimonious  as  mutual, 
yet  he  lived  in  habits  of  amity  with  the  most  re 
spected  characters  in  public  departments,  as  well 
as  in  private  life."  It  is  difficult  at  this  time  to 
determine  the  precise  weight  which  should  be  at 
tached  to  the  charge  on  one  hand,  and  the  vin 
dication  on  the  other;  it  is  sufficient  to  say, 
that  the  former  imputed  to  him  no  improper  de 
sign,  nor  affected  in  any  way  the  purity  of  his  char 
acter. 

After  the  termination  of  the  inquiry,  already 
mentioned,  General  Putnam  was  ordered  to  Con 
necticut,  to  hasten  the  march  of  the  new  levies 
from  that  quarter.  He  returned  to  the  camp 
shortly  after  the  battle  of  Monmouth,  and  took  the 
command  of  the  right  wing  of  the  army ;  but  no 
important  operation  occurred  before  the  retire 
ment  of  the  troops  into  their  winter-quarters,  the 
arrangement  for  which  was  made  early  in  Novem 
ber.  General  Putnam,  with  three  brigades,  com 
posed  of  the  Connecticut  and  New  Hampshire 
troops,  and  two  other  regiments,  was  then  stationed 
at  Danbury,  in  Connecticut. 

In  the  course  of  the  winter,  a  spirit  of  insubordi 
nation  arose  among  a  portion  of  these  troops, 
which,  but  for  the  vigor  and  promptness  of  their 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

commander,  might  have  been  attended  oy  the 
most  serious  results.  The  General  Assembly  of 
Connecticut  was  in  session  at  Hartford ;  and  a  plan 
was  matured  by  the  brigades  belonging  to  that  col 
ony,  of  marching  thither  to  demand  redress  of  the 
grievances  under  which  they  labored.  One  of 
them  was  already  under  arms,  when  the  intelli 
gence  of  their  proceedings  was  brought  to  Gen 
eral  Putnam.  He  rode  instantly  to  their  canton 
ment,  and  addressed  them  with  his  usual  energy, 
in  an  appeal  which  went  directly  to  a  soldier's 
heart ;  when  he  concluded,  he  ordered  them  to 
march  to  their  regimental  parades  and  lodge  their 
arms ;  and  the  command  was  instantly  obeyed. 

In  the  course  of  the  winter,  General  Putnam 
was  one  day  visiting  his  outposts  at  West  Green 
wich,  when  Governor  Tryon,  with  a  corps  of 
fifteen  hundred  men,  was  on  his  march  against  it. 
Putnam  had  with  him  only  one  hundred  and  fifty 
men,  with  two  pieces  of  artillery ;  with  these  he 
took  his  station  on  the  brow  of  a  steep  declivity 
near  the  meeting-house.  The  road  turned  to  the 
north,  just  before  it  reached  the  edge  of  the  steep  ; 
after  proceeding  in  this  direction  for  a  considerable 
distance,  it  inclined  to  the  south,  rendering  the 
descent  gradual  and  tolerably  safe.  As  the  British 
advanced,  they  were  received  with  a  sharp  fire 
from  the  artillery ;  but,  perceiving  the  dragoons 
about  to  charge,  Putnam  ordered  his  men  to  retire 


ISRAEL     PUTNAM. 

to  a  swamp,  inaccessible  to  cavalry,  while  he  him 
self  forced  his  horse  directly  down  the  precipice. 
His  pursuers,  who  were  close  upon  him,  paused 
with  astonishment  as  they  reached  the  edge,  and 
saw  him  accomplish  his  perilous  descent ;  and  be 
fore  they  could  gain  the  valley  by  the  road,  he 
was  far  beyond  their  reach. 

The  declivity,  from  this  circumstance,  has  since 
generally  borne  the  name  of  Putnam's  Hill.  He 
continued  his  route  to  Stamford,  where  he  found 
some  militia,  with  whom,  added  to  his  former  band, 
he  pursued  Tryon  on  his  retreat;  and,  notwith 
standing  the  inferiority  of  his  force,  succeeded  in 
taking  about  fifty  prisoners. 

The  military  career  of  General  Putnam  termi 
nated  with  the  campaign  of  1779,  during  which 
he  commanded  the  Maryland  line,  stationed  near 
West  Point,  but  was  engaged  in  no  impor 
tant  operations.  His  time  was  principally  occu 
pied  in  superintending  the  erection  of  the  new 
defences  of  that  commanding  post.  There  he  re 
mained  until  the  army  retired  to  their  winter- 
quarters  at  Morristown,  when  he  returned  with  his 
family  on  a  visit  to  Brooklyn,  in  Connecticut,  the 
place  to  which  his  residence  had  been  transferred. 
As  he  was  journeying  towards  Hartford  on  his 
way  back  to  Morristown,  his  progress  was  arrested 
by  an  attack  of  paralysis,  by  which  the  use  of  his 
limbs  on  one  side  was  temporarily  lost.  For  a 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

season,  he  was  reluctant  to  admit  the  real  charac 
ter  of  his  disease,  and  resorted  to  very  active 
exertion  for  relief;  but  the  complaint  refused  to 
yield  to  the  influences  of  such  a  remedy,  and  he 
was  doomed  to  pass  the  remainder  of  his  life  in 
a  state  of  comparative  inaction. 

In  closing  the  recital  of  the  military  services  of 
General  Putnam,  it  would  be  unjust  to  his  memory 
to  omit  a  portion  of  a  letter  addressed  to  him  by 
General  Washington,  in  1783,  after  the  conclusion 
of  the  treaty  of  peace.  "  I  can  assure  you,  that, 
among  the  many  worthy  and  meritorious  officers, 
with  whom  I  have  had  the  happiness  to  be  con 
nected  in  service  through  the  course  of  this  war, 
and  from  whose  cheerful  assistance  and  advice  I 
have  received  much  support  and  confidence  in  the 
various  and  trying  vicissitudes  of  a  complicated  con 
test,  the  name  of  Putnam  is  not  forgotten  ;  nor  will 
be  but  with  that  stroke  of  time,  which  shall  oblit 
erate  from  my  mind  the  remembrance  of  all  those 
toils  and  fatigues,  through  which  we  have  struggled 
for  the  preservation  and  establishment  of  the  rights, 
liberties,  and  independence  of  our  country." 

General  Putnam  survived  the  close  of  the  war 
about  seven  years ;  a  period  of  repose,  strongly 
contrasted  with  the  animation  and  vicissitude  which 
had  marked  his  early  and  maturer  life ;  presenting 
little  incident  for  his  biographer  to  record,  yet 
forming  an  appropriate  termination  of  a  busy  and 


ISRAEL,     PUTNAM.  215 

adventurous  career.  His  age  and  bodily  infirmities 
disqualified  him  for  any  public  occupation,  but  did 
not  impair  his  ability  to  enjoy  the  tranquil  pleas 
ures,  that  constitute  the  solace  of  declining  years. 
He  was  enabled  to  take  the  moderate  exercise, 
which  the  preservation  of  his  measure  of  health 
required ;  and  the  vigor  of  his  mind  remained 
unbroken  to  the  last.  Fortunately,  his  early  agri 
cultural  labors  had  provided  him  with  a  compe 
tency,  and  shielded  him  from  the  embarrassment 
and  sorrow,  which  darkened  the  old  age  of  many 
of  his  brethren  of  the  army  of  the  Revolution ;  and 
thus,  in  the  retirement  of  his  family,  enjoying  the 
regard  of  those  around  him,  and  the  grateful 
respect  of  his  countrymen,  his  life  gradually  wore 
away.  On  the  17th  of  May,  1790,  he  was  sud 
denly  attacked  by  an  inflammatory  disease,  and 
foresaw  that  his  end  was  nigh ;  the  consolations 
of  religion  sustained  him  in  his  closing  hours,  and, 
two  days  afterwards,  he  died  with  resignation  and 
in  peace.  His  remains  were  borne  by  his  fellow- 
citizens  to  the  grave  with  the  martial  honors  due 
to  the  memory  of  a  brave  and  patriotic  soldier, 
and  a  feeling  eulogy  was  delivered  by  a  neighbor 
and  personal  fiiend. 

It  only  remains  for  us  to  say  a  few  words 
respecting  the  military  and  personal  character  of 
one,  whose  history  we  have  thus  attempted  to 
delineate.  His  qualities  as  a  soldier  are  already 


216  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

apparent  to  the  reader.  Under  all  circumstances, 
however  critical,  he  was  perfectly  fearless  and  self- 
possessed,  and  full  of  the  most  active  energy 
and  resource  at  the  time  when  they  were  most 
urgently  required.  No  man  could  surpass  him  in 
the  fiery  charge,  of  which  the  success  depends  so 
much  upon  the  leader ;  in  this  respect  he  reminds 
the  reader  of  Murat,  the  gallant  marshal  of  Napo 
leon  ;  nor  would  the  general  feeling  deny  him  the 
proud  title,  by  which  another  of  those  marshals 
was  distinguished,  that  of  the  bravest  of  the  brave. 
At  the  same  time,  as  has  been  already  intimated, 
he  was  somewhat  less  successful  in  the  more 
extended  operations,  which  require  the  combined 
action  of  large  and  separate  masses  of  men.  Yet, 
when  it  is  remembered,  that,  wholly  without  mili 
tary  education  and  with  scarcely  any  other,  and 
simply  by  the  force  of  his  own  energy  and  talent, 
he  rose  through  all  the  gradations  of  the  service  to 
the  station  of  first  major-general  in  the  army  of  the 
United  States,  till  he  stood  second  in  rank  to  Wash 
ington  alone,  no  better  evidence  could  be  given  or 
required  of  his  capacity  and  conduct  as  a  soldier. 
Nor  should  it  be  forgotten,  that  his  humanity  was 
always  as  conspicuous  as  his  bravery ;  his  treat 
ment  of  the  sick  and  wounded  was  such  as  to 
attract  the  warm  attachment  of  his  own  soldiers, 
and  to  extort  the  gratitude  of  the  enemy.  He  is 
certainly  entitled  to  the  praise  of  disinterested, 


ISRAEL     PUTJNAM.  217 

* 

ardent,  and  successful  efforts  in  the  cause  of  his 
country ;  and  he  will  be  long  remembered  among 
those  who  served  her  faithfully  and  well,  at  a 
season  when  she  wanted  either  the  ability  or  the 
inclination  to  reward  their  toils  and  sacrifices. 

But  the  military  reputation  of  General  Putnam, 
high  as  it  was,  concealed  no  dark  traits  of  personal 
character  beneath  its  shadow.  In  all  the  domestic 
relations,  the  surest  tests  of  habitual  virtue,  he  was 
most  exemplary ;  and  his  excellence  in  this  respect 
deserves  the  more  notice,  as  the  stern  discipline 
and  wild  adventure,  in  which  so  much  of  his  life 
was  spent,  were  more  favorable  to  the  growth 
of  severer  qualities.  His  disposition  was  frank, 
generous,  and  kind  ;  in  his  intercourse  with  others, 
he  was  open,  just,  sincere,  and  unsuspecting ;  libe 
ral  in  his  hospitality,  and  of  ready  benevolence 
wherever  there  was  occasion  for  his  charity. 
Those  who  knew  him  best  were  the  most  forward 
to  express  their  admiration  of  his  excellence. 
The  late  President  Dwight,  who  was  his  friend, 
but  very  unlikely  to  sacrifice  the  claims  of  truth  to 
those  of  personal  regard,  has  in  his  writings  more 
than  once  expressed  the  sentiment,  which  he  has 
embodied  in  the  inscription  on  General  Putnam's 
monument ;  that  he  was  "  a  man,  whose  gener 
osity  was  singular,  whose  honesty  was  proverbial ; 
who  raised  himself  to  universal  esteem,  and  offices 
of  eminent  distinction,  by  personal  worth  and  a 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

useful  life."  Such  is  the  language  of  others  who 
have  borne  witness  to  his  private  virtues ;  and 
what  more  needs  to  be  added,  than  that  his  moral 
excellence  flowed  from  a  religious  fountain,  and 
that  the  character  of  a  man  of  worth  was  adorned 
and  dignified  in  him  by  the  higher  qualities  of  a 
Christian  ? 


A 

MEMOIR 

OF 

LUCRETIA  MARIA  DAVIDSON; 


THE  AUTHOR  OF  "REDWOOD,"  "HOPE  LESLIE" 
Sic.,  &c. 


PREFACE. 


AN  interesting  memoir  of  Miss  Davidson  has 
already  been  written  by  Mr.  Morse,  and  prefixed 
to  the  volume  of  her  published  poems,  entitled 
"  Amir  Khan,  and  other  Poems."  That  memoir, 
being  a  mere  introductory  prefix,  was  necessarily, 
as  its  title  announces,  a  "  sketch." 

The  editor  of  this  biographical  series,  express 
ing  it  as  his  opinion  of  Miss  Davidson,  that  "  there 
is  no  record  of  a  greater  prematurity  of  intellect, 
or  a  more  beautiful  developement  of  native  delicacy, 
sensibility,  and  moral  purity,"  requested  a  memoir 
from  the  writer  of 'the  subjoined. 

It  is  little  more  than  a  transcript  of  the  mate 
rials  kindly  furnished  by  Miss  Davidson's  mother. 
There  has  been  no  effort  (as  there  was  no  need) 
to  magnify  the  prodigious  genius  of  the  young 
poet.  The  object  sought  has  been  to  set  in  a  clear 
light  before  her  young  country-women  the  attrac 
tive  model  of  Lucretia  Davidson's  character. 


LUCRETIA  MARIA  DAVIDSON. 


LUCRETIA  MARIA  DAVIDSON  was  born  at  Platts- 
burg,  in  the  State  of  New  York,  on  the  27th 
of  September,  1808.  Her  father,  Dr.  Oliver  Da 
vidson,  is  a  lover  of  science,  and  a  man  of  intel 
lectual  tastes.  Her  mother,  Margaret  Davidson 
(born  Miller),  is  of  a  most  respectable  family,  and 
received  the  best  education  her  times  afforded,  at 
the  school  of  the  celebrated  Scottish  lady,  Isabella 
Graham,  an  institution  in  the  city  of  New  York, 
that  had  no  rival  in  its  day,  and  which  derived 
advantages  from  the  distinguished  individual  that 
presided  over  it,  that  can  scarcely  be  counterbal 
anced  by  the  multiplied  masters  and  multiform 
studies  of  the  present  day.  The  family  of  Miss 
Davidson  lived  in  seclusion.  Their  pleasures  and 
excitements  were  intellectual.  Her  mother  has 
suffered  year  after  year  from  ill  health  and  debility ; 
and,  being  a  person  of  imaginative  character,  and 
of  most  ardent  and  susceptible  feelings,  employed 
on  domestic  incidents,  and  concentrated  in  maternal 
tenderness,  she  naturally  loved  and  cherished  her 


224  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

daughter's  marvellous  gifts,  and  added  to  the  inten 
sity  of  the  fire  with  which  her  genius  and  her 
affections,  mingling  in  one  holy  fiame,  burned  till 
they  consumed  their  mortal  investments.  We 
should  not  have  ventured  to  say  thus  much  of  the 
mother,  who  still  survives  to  weep,  and  to  rejoice 
over  her  dead  child  more  than  many  parents  over 
their  living  ones,  were  it  not  to  prove  that  Lucretia 
Davidson's  character  was  not  miraculous,  but  that 
this  flower  of  Paradise  was  nurtured  and  trained 
by  natural  means  and  influences. 

The  physical  delicacy  of  this  fragile  creature 
was  apparent  in  infancy.  When  eighteen  months 
old,  she  had  a  typhus  fever,  which  threatened  her 
life  ;  but  nature  put  forth  its  mysterious  energy,  and 
she  became  stronger  and  healthier  than  before  her 
illness.  No  records  were  made  of  her  early  child 
hood,  save  that  she  was  by  turns  very  gay  and 
very  thoughtful,  exhibiting  thus  early  these  com 
mon  manifestations  of  extreme  sensibility.  Her 
first  literary  acquisition  indicated  her  after  course. 
She  learned  her  letters  at  once.  At  the  age  of 
four  she  was  sent  to  the  Plattsburg  Academy, 
where  she  learned  to  read  and  to  form  letters  in 
sand,  after  the  Lancasterian  method.  As  soon  as 
she  could  read,  her  books  drew  her  away  from  the 
plays  of  childhood,  and  she  was  constantly  found 
absorbed  in  the  little  volumes  that  her  father 
avished  upon  her  Her  mother,  on  some  occasion 


LUCKETIA     MARIA     DAVIDSON.          225 

in  haste  to  write  a  letter,  looked  in  vain  for  a  sheet 
of  paper.  A  whole  quire  had  strangely  disappeared. 
She  expressed  a  natural  vexation.  Her  little 
girl  came  forward  confused,  and  said,  "  Mamma, 
I  have  used  it."  Her  mother,  knowing  she  had 
never  been  taught  to  write,  was  amazed,  and  asked 
her  what  possible  use  she  could  have  for  it.  Lu- 
cretia  burst  into  tears,  and  replied  that  she  "  did  not 
like  to  tell."  Her  mother  respected  the  childish 
mystery,  and  made  no  further  inquiries. 

The  paper  continued  to  vanish,  and  the  child 
was  often  observed  with  pen  and  ink,  still  sedu 
lously  shunning  observation.  At  last  her  mother, 
on  seeing  her  make  a  blank  book,  asked  what  she 
was  going  to  do  with  it.  Lucretia  blushed,  and  left 
the  room  without  replying.  This  sharpened  her 
mother's  curiosity.  She  watched  the  child  nar 
rowly,  and  saw  that  she  made  quantities  of  these 
little  books,  and  that  she  was  disturbed  by  obser 
vation  ;  and,  if  one  of  the  family  requested  to  see 
them,  she  would  burst  into  tears,  and  run  away 
to  hide  her  secret  treasure. 

The  mystery  remained  unexplained  till  she  was 
six  years  old,  when  her  mother,  in  exploring  a 
dark  closet,  rarely  opened,  found,  behind  piles  oi 
linen,  a  parcel  of  papers,  which  proved  to  be 
Lucretia's  manuscript  books.  At  first  the  hiero 
glyphics  seemed  to  baffle  investigation.  On  one 
side  of  the  leaf  was  an  artfully-sketched  picture ; 

VOL.  VII. 3  15 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY.       : 

on  the  other  Roman  letters,  some  placed  upright, 
others  horizontally,  obliquely,  or  backwards,  not 
formed  into  words,  nor  spaced  in  any  mode.  Both 
parents  pored  over  them  till  they  ascertained  the 
letters  were  poetical  explanations,  in  metre  and 
rhyme,  of  the  picture  on  the  reverse.  The  little 
books  were  carefully  put  away  as  literary  curiosi 
ties.  Soon  after  Lucretia  came  running  to  her 
mother,  painfully  agitated,  her  face  covered  with 
her  hands,  and  tears  trickling  down  between  her 
slender  fingers.  "  Oh  mamma  !  mamma  ! "  she 
cried,  sobbing,  "  how  could  you  treat  me  so  ?  You 
have  not  used  me  well !  My  little  books !  You 
have  shown  them  to  papa,  —  Anne,  —  Eliza,  I 
know  you  have.  Oh,  what  shall  I  do ! "  Her 
mother  pleaded  guilty,  and  tried  to  soothe  the  child 
by  promising  not  to  do  so  again.  Lucre tia's  face 
brightened,  a  sunny  smile  played  through  her 
tears,  as  she  replied,  "  Oh  mamma,  I  am  not  afraid 
you  will  do  so  again,  for  I  have  burned  them  all." 
And  so  she  had  !  This  reserve  proceeded  from 
nothing  cold  or  exclusive  in  her  character ;  never 
was  there  a  more  loving  or  sympathetic  creature. 
It  would  be  difficult  to  say  which  was  most  rare, 
her  modesty  or  the  genius  it  sanctified. 

She  did  not  learn  to  write  till  she  was  between 
six  and  seven.  Her  passion  for  knowledge  was 
then  rapidly  developing.  She  read  with  the  closest 
attention,  and  was  continually  running  to  her 


LUCRETIA     MARIA    DAVIDSON.          227 

parents  with  questions  and  remarks  that  startled 
them.  At  a  very  early  age  her  mother  implanted 
the  seeds  of  religion,  the  first  that  should  be  sown 
in  the  virgin  soil  of  the  heart.  That  the  dews  of 
heaven  fell  upon  them,  is  evident  from  the  breath 
ings  of  piety  throughout  her  poetry,  and  still  more 
from  its  precious  fruit  in  her  life.  Her  mother 
remarks,  that,  "  from  her  earliest  years  she  evinced 
a  fear  of  doing  any  thing  displeasing  in  the  sight 
of  God ;  and  if,  in  her  gayest  sallies,  she  caught  a 
look  of  disapprobation  from  rne,  she  would  ask  with 
the  most  artless  simplicity,  '  Oh  mother,  was  that 
wicked  ? ' " 

There  are,  very  early,  in  most  children's  lives, 
certain  conventional  limits  to  their  humanity,  only 
certain  forms  of  animal  life  that  are  respected  and 
cherished.  A  robin,  a  butterfly,  or  a  kitten  is  a 
legitimate  object  of  their  love  and  caresses ;  but 
woe  to  the  beetle,  the  caterpillar,  or  the  rat,  that 
is  thrown  upon  their  tender  mercies.  Lucretia 
Davidson  made  no  such  artificial  discriminations. 
She  seemed  to  have  an  instinctive  kindness  for 
every  living  thing.  When  she  was  about  nine, 
one  of  her  schoolfellows  gave  her  a  young  rat, 
that  had  broken  its  leg  in  attempting  to  escape 
from  a  trap.  She  tore  off  a  part  of  her  pocket 
handkerchief,  bound  up  the  maimed  leg,  carried 
the  animal  home,  and  nursed  it  tenderly.  The  rat, 
in  spite  of  the  care  of  its  little  leech,  died,  and 


228  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

was  buried  in  the  garden,  and  honored  with  "  the 
meed  of  a  melodious  tear."  This  lament  has  not 
been  preserved  ;  but  one  she  wrote  soon  after  on 
the  death  of  a  maimed  pet  robin,  is  given  here  as 
the  earliest  record  of  her  muse  that  has  been 
preserved. 

ON    THE    DEATH    OF    BIT    ROBIN. 

"  UNDERNEATH  this  turf  doth  lie 
A  little  bird  which  ne'er  could  fly ; 
Twelve  large  angle-worms  did  fill 
This  little  bird  whom  they  did  kill. 
Puss  !  if  you  should  chance  to  smell 
My  little  bird  from  his  dark  cell, 
Oh !  do  be  merciful,  my  cat, 
And  not  serve  him  as  you  did  my  rat ! " 

Her  application  to  her  studies  at  school  was 
intense.  Her  mother  judiciously,  but  in  vain, 
attempted  a  diversion  in  favor  of  that  legitimate 
sedative  to  female  genius,  the  needle.  Lucretia 
performed  her  prescribed  tasks  with  fidelity  and 
with  amazing  celerity,  and  was  again  buried  in  her 
'books. 

When  she  was  about  twelve,  she  accompanied 
her  father  to  the  celebration  of  Washington's 
birth-night.  The  music  and  decorations  excited 
her  imagination  ;  but  it  was  not  with  her,  as  with 
most  children,  the  mere  pleasure  of  stimulated 
sensations.  She  had  studied  the  character  and 
history  of  the  father  of  her  country,  and  ihefete 
stirred  up  her  enthusiasm,  and  inspired  that  feeling 


LUCRETIA    MARIA    DAVIDSON.          229 

oi  actual  existence  and  presence  peculiar  to  minds 
of  her  temperament.  To  the  imaginative  there  is 
an  extension  of  life,  far  back  into  the  dim  past, 
and  forward  into  the  untried  future,  denied  to  those 
of  common  mould. 

The  day  after  the  fete,  her  elder  sister  discov 
ered  her  absorbed  in  writing.  She  had  sketched 
an  urn,  and  written  two  stanzas  beneath  it.  She 
was  persuaded,  with  some  difficulty,  to  show  them 
to  her  mother.  She  brought  them  blushing  and 
trembling.  Her  mother  was  ill  in  bed  ;  but  she 
expressed  her  delight  with  such  unequivocal  ani 
mation,  that  the  child's  face  changed  from  doubt  to 
rapture,  and  she  seized  the  paper,  ran  away,  and 
immediately  added  the  concluding  stanzas.  When 
they  were  finished,  her  mother  pressed  her  to  her 
bosom,  wept  with  delight,  and  promised  her  leisure, 
and  all  the  instruction  she  could  give  her.  The 
sensitive  child  burst  into  tears.  "  And  do  you  wish 
me  to  write,  mamma  ?  "  she  said,  "  and  will  papa 
approve  ?  and  will  it  be  right  that  I  should  do  so  ? " 
This  delicate  conscientiousness  gives  an  imper 
ishable  charm  to  the  stanzas,  and  to  fix  it  in  the 
memory  of  our  readers  we  here  quote  them  from 
her  published  poems. 

"  AND  does  a  hero's  dust  lie  here  ? 
Columbia !  gaze  and  drop  a  tear ! 
His  country's  and  the  orphan's  friend, 
See  thousands  o'er  his  ashes  bend ! 


230  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

"  Among  the  heroes  of  the  age, 
He  was  the  warrior  and  the  sage  ! 
He  left  a  train  of  glory  bright, 
Which  never  will  be  hid  in  night ! 

"  The  toils  of  war  and  danger  past, 
He  reaps  a  rich  reward  at  last ; 
His  pure  soul  mounts  on  cherub's  wings, 
And  now  with  saints  and  angels  sings. 

"The  brightest  on  the  list  of  Fame, 
In  golden  letters  shines  his  name  ; 
Her  trump  shall  sound  it  through  the  world, 
And  the  striped  banner  ne'er  be  furled ! 

"  And  every  sex  and  every  age, 
From  lisping  boy  to  learned  sage, 
The  widow  and  her  orphan  son, 
Revere  the  name  of  Washington." 

Lucretia  did  not  escape  the  common  trial  of  pre 
cocious  genius.  A  literary  friend,  to  whom  Mrs. 
Davidson  showed  the  stanzas,  suspected  the  child 
had,  perhaps  unconsciously,  repeated  something 
she  had  gathered  from  the  mass  of  her  reading, 
and  she  betrayed  her  suspicions  to  Lucretia.  She 
felt  her  rectitude  impeached,  and  this,  and  not  the 
wounded  pride  of  the  young  author,  made  her 
weep  till  she  was  actually  ill.  As  soon  as  she  re 
covered  her  tranquillity,  she  offered  a  poetic  and 
playful  remonstrance,*  which  set  the  matter  at  rest, 
and  put  an  end  to  all  future  question  of  the  authen 
ticity  of  her  productions. 

*See  the  Biographical  Sketch  prefixed  to  "AmirKkan, 
and  other  Poems,"  p.  ix. 


L.UCRETIA     MAU1A     DAVIDSON.       231 

Before  she  was  twelve  years  old,  she  had  read 
the  English  poets.  "  The  English  poets,"  says 
Southey,  in  his  review  of  Miss  Davidson's  poems, 
"  though  a  vague  term,  was  a  wholesome  course 
for  such  a  mind."  *  She  had  read  beside  much 
history,  sacred  and  profane,  novels,  and  other  works 
of  imagination.  Dramatic  works  were  particularly 
attractive  to  her.  Her  devotion  to  Shakspeare  is 
expressed  in  an  address  to  him  written  about  this 
time,  from  which  we  extract  the  following  stanza ; 

"Heaven,  in  compassion  to  man's  erring  heart, 
Gave  thee  of  virtue,  then  of  vice  a  part, 
Lest  we  in  wonder  here  should  bow  before  thee, 
Break  God's  commandment,  worship  and  adore  thee." 

Ordinary  romances,  and  even  those  highly 
wrought  fictions,  that  without  any  type  in  nature 
have  such  a  mischievous  charm  for  most  imaginative 
young  persons,  she  instinctively  rejected.  Her 
healthy  appetite,  keen  as  it  was,  was  under  the 
government  of  a  pure  and  sound  nature.  Her 
mother,  always  aware  of  the  worth  of  the  gem 
committed  to  her  keeping,  amidst  her  sufferings 
from  ill  health  and  other  causes,  kept  a  watchful 
eye  on  her  child,  directed  her  pursuits,  and  sym 
pathized  in  all  her  little  school  labors  and  trials. 
She  perceived  that  Lucretia  was  growing  pale  and 
sickly  over  her  studies,  and  she  judiciously  with 
drew  her,  for  a  time,  from  school. 

*  See  the  London  Quarterly  Review,  No.  82, 


232  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

She  was  soon  rewarded  for  this  wise  measure  by 
hearing  her  child's  bounding  step  as  she  approached 
her  sick-room,  and  seeing  the  cheek  bent  over  her 
pillow,  blooming  with  returning  health.  How 
miserably  mistaken  are  those,  who  fancy  that  all  the 
child's  lessons  must  be  learned  from  the  school- 
book,  and  in  the  school-room !  This  apt  pupil  of 
Nature  had  only  changed  her  books  and  her  master. 
Now  she  sat  at  the  feet  of  the  great  teacher, 
Nature,  and  read  and  listened,  and  thought,  as  she 
wandered  along  the  Saranac,  or  contemplated  the 
varying  aspects  of  Cumberland  Bay.  She  would 
sit  for  hours  and  watch  the  progress  of  a  thunder 
storm,  from  the  first  gathering  of  the  clouds  to  the 
farewell  smile  of  the  rainbow.  We  give  a  speci 
men  of  the  impression  of  these  studies  in  the 
following  extract  from  her  unpublished  poems 

TWILIGHT. 

"How  sweet  the  hour  when  daylight  blends 
With  the  pensive  shadows  on  evening's  breast, 
And  dear  to  the  heart  is  the  pleasure  it  lends, 
For  't  is  like  the  departure  of  saints  to  their  rest. 

"  Oh  'tis  sweet,  Saranac,  on  thy  loved  banks  to  stray, 
To  watch  the  last  day-beam  dance  light  on  thy  wave, 
To  mark  the  white  skiff  as  it  skims  o'er  the  bay, 
Or  heedlessly  bounds  o'er  the  warrior's  grave.* 

*  Cumberland  Bay  was  the  scene  of  a  battle  during 
the  last  war. 


LUCRETIA     MARIA    DAV[DSON.         233 

"  Oh  't  is  sweet  to  a  heart  unentangled  and  light, 
When  with  hope's  brilliant  prospects  the  fancy  is  blest, 
To  pause  'mid  its  day-dreams  so  witchingly  bright, 
And  mark  the  last  sunbeams  while  sinking  to  rest." 

The  following,  from  her  unpublished  poems,  is 
the  result  of  the  same  pensive  meditations. 

THE    EVENING    SPIRIT. 

'  WHETS'  the  pale  moon  is  shining  bright, 
And  nought  disturbs  the  gloom  of  night, 
'T  is  then  upon  yon  level  green, 
From  which  St.  Glair's  dark  heights  are  seen, 
The  Evening  Spirit  glides  along, 
And  chants  her  melancholy  song ; 
Or  leans  upon  a  snowy  cloud, 
And  its  white  skirts  her  figure  shroud. 
By  zephyrs  light  she  's  wafted  far, 
And  contemplates  the  northern  star, 
Or  gazes  from  her  silvery  throne, 
On  that  pale  queen,  the  silent  moon. 
Who  is  the  Evening  Spirit  fair, 
That  hovers  o'er  thy  walls,  St.  Clair? 
Who  is  it  that  with  footsteps  light 
Breathes  the  calm  silence  of  the  night 3 
Ask  the  light  zephyr,  who  conveys 
Her  fairy  figure  o?er  the  waves. 
Ask  yon  bright  fleecy  cloud  of  night, 
Ask  yon  pale  planet's  silver  light, 
Why  does  the  Evening  Spirit  fair 
Sail  o'er  the  walls  of  dark  St  Clair?  " 

In  her  thirteenth  year  the  clouds  seemed  heavily 
gathering  over  her  morning.     Her  father  had  suf- 


<234  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

fered  many  losses  and  discouragements  during  the 
war.  The  result  of  his  professional  labors  was 
scarcely  adequate  to  the  wants  of  his  family.  Her 
mother  was  so  ill  that  she  could  no  longer  extend 
to  her  child  the  sympathy,  help,  and  encouragement 
that  she  needed.  Lucretia  was  oppressed  with 
the  apprehension  of  losing  this  fond  parent,  who  for 
weeks  and  months  seemed  on  the  verge  of  the 
grave.  There  are  among  her  unpublished  poems, 
some  touching  lines  to  her  mother,  written,  I  be 
lieve,  about  this  time,  concluding  thus ; 

"  Hang  not  thy  harp  upon  the  willow  ; 
That  weeps  o'er  every  passing  wave ; 
This  life  is  but  a  restless  pillow, 
There  's  calm  and  peace  beyond  the  grave." 

But  far  more  touchingly  than  by  the  most  elo 
quent  song,  did  she  evince  her  filial  affection. 
Dr.  Davidson's  well-selected  library,  which  had 
been,  at  all  times,  the  dearest  solace  of  his  daugh 
ter,  had  been  broken  up  and  dispersed  at  ths 
invasion  of  Plattsburg,  and  Lucretia  sighed  over 
the  empty  shelves.  Her  father  met,  at  a  friend's 
house,  an  English  gentleman,  who,  saying  he  had 
heard  much  of  the  little  girl  who  promised  to 
do  great  honor  to  American  literature,  expressed 
a  strong  desire  to  see  some  of  her  productions. 
With  difficulty  her  father  obtained  her  permission 
to  send  copies  of  a  few  of  them  to  the  stranger. 
He  returned  a  polite  note  to  the  father,  expressing 


LUCRETIA     MARIA     DAVIDSON.  235 

his  gratification,  and  enclosed  a  twenty-dollar  note 
for  Lucretia.  Her  father  gave  it  to  her,  telling 
her  to  regard  it  as  the  first  fruit  of  her  poetical 
merit.  She  took  the  bank  note  and  examined  it 
with  eager  simplicity,  and  exclaiming,  "  Oh  papa  ! 
how  many  books  it  will  buy  !  "  then,  casting  her 
eyes  to  the  bed  where  her  suffering  mother  was 
lying,  a  shade  of  tenderness  passed  over  her  radiant 
face,  and  she  added,  "  Oh  no,  no,  no  !  I  cannot 
spend  it ;  take  it,  papa,  I  do  not  want  it,  take  it  and 
buy  something  for  mamma  !  "  How  must  those 
parents  have  blessed  the  darkness  of  that  adver 
sity,  on  which  such  light  from  heaven  shone  !  To 
them  it  must  have  been  given  to  see  the  gracious 
ministry  of  what  the  world  calls  poverty,  in  nur 
turing  those  virtues  that  were  rapidly  ripening  for 
•mmortality. 

Mrs.  Davidson's  health  gradually  amended,  and 
with  it  returned  her  desire  to  give  her  daughter 
leisure,  and  every  other  means  within  her  power  to 
aid  the  developement  of  her  extraordinary  genius. 
For  this  some  blamed,  and  others  laughed  at  her. 
The  taunts  of  vulgar  minds  reached  Lucretia's 
ears.  "  Was  she  to  be  made  a  learned  lady  ?  a 
reverend  ?  or  fitted  for  the  law  ?  "  This  she  might 
have  borne  ;  but,  when  she  heard  whispers  that  it 
was  her  filial  duty  to  sacrifice  her  literary  tastes, 
and  to  bear  a  part  of  the  domestic  burden  that 
weighed  too  heavily  on  her  mother,  she  made  a 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

secret  resolution,  to  devote  herself  exclusively  to 
the  tasks  thus  gratuitously  prescribed.  She  put 
her  books  aside,  and  her  mother  observed  her  assid 
uously  devoted  to  her  needle,  and  to  household 
labors.  Her  mind  languished  for  its  daily  bread. 
She  became  pale  and  dejected ;  and  her  vigilant 
mother,  after  much  pains,  extracted  the  reason  of 
her  change  of  pursuits,  and  persuaded  her  to  re 
sume  her  books  and  pen.  Her  cheerfulness 
returned,  and  she  was  again  the  life  and  charm  of 
her  home.  Her  extreme  sensibility  and  delicate 
health  subjected  her,  at  times,  to  depression  of 
spirits  ;  but  she  had  nothing  of  the  morbid  dejec 
tion,  the  exclusiveness,  and  hostility  to  the  world, 
that  are  the  results  of  self-exaggeration,  selfishness, 
and  self-idolatry,  and  not  the  natural  offspring  of 
genius  and  true  feeling,  which,  in  their  healthy 
state,  are  pure  and  living  fountains,  flowing  out  in 
abundant  streams  of  love  and  kindness.* 

Indulgent  as  Mrs.  Davidson  was,  she  was  too 
wise  to  permit  Lucretia  to  forego  entirely  the  cus 
tomary  employments  of  her  sex.  When  engaged 
with  these,  it  seems  she  sometimes  played  truant 
with  her  Muse.  Once  she  had  promised  to  do  a 
sewing-task,  and  had  eagerly  run  off  for  her  work- 

*  Genius,  like  many  other  sovereigns,  has  been  allowed 
the  exercise  of  unreasonable  prerogatives  ;  but  none,  per 
haps  much  more  mischievous,  than  the  right  to  confer  on 
self-indulgence  the  gracious  name  of  sensibility. 


LUCKETIA     MARIA     DAVIDSON.  237 

basket.  She  loitered,  and,  when  she  returned,  she 
found  her  mother  had  done  the  work,  and  that 
there  was  a  shade  of  just  displeasure  on  her  coun 
tenance.  "  Oh  mamma  !  "  she  said,  "  I  did  forget, 
I  am  grieved.  I  did  not  mean  to  neglect  you." 
"  Where  have  you  been,  Lucretia  ?  "  "I  have 
been  writing"  she  replied,  confused.  " As  I 
passed  the  window,  I  saw  a  solitary  sweet-pea.  I 
thought  they  were  all  gone  ;  this  was  alone  ;  I  ran  to 
smell  it ;  but,  before  I  could  reach  it,  a  gust  of  wind 
broke  the  stem.  I  turned  away  disappointed,  and 
was  coming  back  to  you  ;  but,  as  I  passed  the  table, 
there  stood  the  inkstand,  and  I  forgot  you."  If 
our  readers  will  turn  to  her  printed  poems,*  and 
read  "  The  Last  Flower  of  the  Garden,"  they  will 
not  wonder  that  her  mother  kissed  her,  and  bade 
her  never  resist  a  similar  impulse. 

When  in  her  "  happy  moments,"  as  she  termed 
them,  the  impulse  to  write  was  irresistible.  She 
always  wrote  rapidly,  and  sometimes  expressed  a 
wish  that  she  had  two  pairs  of  hands,  to  record  as 
fast  as  she  composed.  She  wrote  her  short  pieces 
standing,  often  three  or  four  in  a  day,  in  the  midst 
of  the  family,  blind  and  deaf  to  all  around  her, 
wrapt  in  her  own  visions.  She  herself  describes 
these  visitations  of  her  Muse,  in  an  address  to  her, 
beginning ; 

*  Amir  Khan  and  Other  Poems,  p.  87. 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

"  Enchanted  when  thy  voice  1  hear, 

I  drop  each  earthly  care ; 

I  feel  as  wafted  from  the  world 

To  Fancy's  realms  of  air." 

When  composing  her  long  and  complicated 
poems,  like  "Amir  Khan,"  she  required  entire  se 
clusion.  If  her  pieces  were  seen  in  the  process  of 
production,  the  spell  was  dissolved  ;  she  could  not 
finish  them,  and  they  were  cast  aside  as  rubbish. 

When  writing  a  poem  of  considerable  length, 
she  retired  to  her  own  apartment,  closed  the  blinds, 
and,  in  warm  weather,  placed  her  ^Eolian  harp 
in  the  window.  Her  mother  has  described  her, 
on  one  of  these  occasions,  when  an  artist  would 
have  painted  her  as  a  young  genius  communing 
with  her  Muse.  We  quote  her  mother's  graphic 
description :  "  I  entered  her  room.  She  was 
sitting  with  scarcely  light  enough  to  discern  the 
characters  she  was  tracing.  Her  harp  was  in  the 
window,  touched  by  a  breeze  just  sufficient  to 
rouse  the  spirit  of  harmony.  Her  comb  had  fallen 
on  the  floor,  and  her  long  dark  ringlets  hung  in 
rich  profusion  over  her  neck  and  shoulders,  her 
cheek  glowed  with  animation,  her  lips  were  half 
unclosed,  her  full,  dark  eye  was  radiant  with  the 
light  of  genius,  and  beaming  with  sensibility,  her 
head  rested  on  her  left  hand,  while  she  held  her 
pen  in  her  right.  She  looked  like  the  inhabitant 
of  another  sphere.  She  was  so  wholly  absorbed, 


LUCRETIA     MARIA     DAV    DSON.          239 

that  she  did  not  observe  my  intrusion.     I  looked 
over  her  shoulder,  and  read  the  following  lines  ; 

'What  heavenly  music  strikes  my  ravished  ear, 
So  soft,  so  melancholy,  and  so  clear  ? 
And  do  the  tuneful  Nine  then  touch  the  lyre, 
To  fill  each  bosom  with  poetic  fire  ? 
Or  does  some  angel  strike  the  sounding  strings, 
Who  caught  from  echo  the  wild  note  he  sings? 
But  ah !  another  strain,  how  sweet !  how  wild  . 
Now  rushing  low,  'tis  soothing,  soft,  and  mild.' 

"  The  noise  I  made  in  leaving  the  room  roused 
her,  and  she  soon  after  brought  me  her  '  Lines  to 
an  JEolian  harp.'  " 

During  the  winter  of  1822  she  wrote  a  poetical 
romance,  entitled  "  Rodri."  She  burned  this, 
save  a  few  fragments  found  after  her  death.  These 
indicate  a  well-contrived  story,  and  are  marked  by 
the  marvellous  ease  and  grace  that  characterized 
her  versification.  During  this  winter  she  wrote 
also  a  tragedy,  "  The  Reward  of  Ambition,"  the 
only  production  she  ever  read  aloud  to  her  family. 
The  following  summer,  her  health  again  failing, 
she  was  withdrawn  from  school,  and  sent  on  a  visit 
to  some  friends  in  Canada.  A  letter,  too  long  to 
be  inserted  here  entire,  gives  a  very  interesting 
account  of  the  impression  produced  on  this  little 
thoughtful  and  feeling  recluse  by  new  objects  and 
new  aspects  of  society.  "  We  visited,"  says  the 
writer,  "  the  British  fortifications  at  Isle-aux-Noix. 


5240  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHT. 

The  broad  ditch,  the  lofty  ramparts,  the  draw 
bridge,  the  covered  gate-way,  the  wide-mouthed 
cannon,  the  arsenal,  and  all  the  imposing  parapher 
nalia  of  a  military  fortress,  seemed  connected  in 
her  mind  with  powerful  associations  of  what  she 
had  read,  but  never  viewed  before.  Instead  of 
shrinking  from  objects  associated  with  carnage  and 
death,  like  many  who  possess  not  half  her  sensibil 
ity,  she  appeared  for  the  moment  to  be  attended 
by  the  god  of  war,  and  drank  the  spirit  of  battles 
and  sieges,  with  the  bright  vision  before  her  eyes  of 
conquering  heroes  and  wreaths  of  victory." 

It  is  curious  to  see  thus  early  the  effect  of  story 
and  song  in  overcoming  the  instincts  of  nature  ;  to 
see  this  tender,  gentle  creature  contemplating  the 
engines  of  war,  not  with  natural  dread,  as  instru 
ments  of  torture  and  death,  but  rather  as  the 
forges  by  which  triumphal  cars  and  wreaths  of 
victory  were  to  be  wrought. 

A  similar  manifestation  of  the  effect  of  tradition 
and  association  on  her  poetic  imagination  is  de 
scribed  in  the  following  passages  from  the  same 
letter.  "  She  found  much  less  in  the  Protestant 
than  in  the  Catholic  churches  to  awaken  those 
romantic  and  poetic  associations,  created  by  the 
record  of  events  in  the  history  of  antiquity  and 
traditional  story,  and  much  less  to  accord  with  the 
fictions  of  her  high-wrought  imagination.  In  view 
ing  the  buildings  of  the  <uty,  or  the  paintings  in  the 


LUCRETIA     MA  III  A     DAVIDSON.          241 

churches,  the  same  uniformity  of  taste  was  obser 
vable.  The  modern,  however  beautiful  in  design 
or  execution,  had  little  power  to  fix  her  attention  ; 
while  the  grand,  the  ancient,  the  romantic,  seized 
upon  her  imagination  with  irresistible  power.  The 
sanctity  of  time  seemed,  to  her  mind,  to  give  a 
sublimity  to  the  simplest  objects ;  and  whatever 
was  connected  with  great  events  in  history,  or  with 
the  lapse  of  ages  long  gone  by,  riveted  and  ab 
sorbed  every  faculty  of  her  mind.  During  our 
visit  to  the  nunneries  she  said  but  little,  and 
seemed  abstracted  in  thought,  as  if,  as  she  herself 
so  beautifully  expresses  it,  to 

*  Roll  back  the  tide  of  time,  and  raise 
The  faded  forms  of  other  days.' 

"  She  had  an  opportunity  of  viewing  an  elegant 
collection  of  paintings.  She  seemed  in  ecstasies 
all  the  evening,  and  every  feature  beamed  with 

joy." 

The  writer,  after  proceeding  to  give  an  account 
of  her  surprising  success  in  attempts  at  pencil- 
sketches  from  nature,  expresses  his  delight  and 
amazement  at  the  attainments  of  this  girl  of  four 
teen  years  in  general  literature,  and  at  the  inde 
pendence  and  originality  of  mind  that  resisted  the 
subduing,  and,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  expression, 
the  subordinating  effect  of  this  early  intimacy 
with  captivating  models.  A  marvellous  resistance, 
if  we  take  into  the  account  "  that  tirnid,  retiring 

VOL.  VII. — T  16 


242  AMEKICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

modesty,"  which,  as  the  writer  of  the  letter  says 
"  marked  her  even  to  a  painful  excess." 

Lucretia  returned  to  her  mother  with  renovated 
health,  and  her  mind  bright  with  new  impressions 
and  joyous  emotions.  Religion  is  the  natural,  and 
only  sustaining  element  of  such  a  character.  Where, 
but  at  the  ever  fresh,  sweet,  and  life-giving  foun 
tains  of  the  Bible,  could  such  a  spirit  have  drunk, 
and  not  again  thirsted  ?  During  the  winter  of 
1823,  she  applied  herself  more  closely  than  ever 
to  her  studies.  She  read  the  Holy  Scriptures  with 
fixed  attention.  She  almost  committed  to  mem 
ory  the  Psalms  of  David,  the  Lamentations  of 
Jeremiah,  and  the  Book  of  Job,  guided  in  her 
selection  by  her  poetic  taste.  Byron  somewhere 
pronounces  the  Book  of  Job  the  sublimest  poetry 
on  record.  During  the  winter,  Miss  Davidson 
wrote  "  A  Hymn  on  Creation,"  the  "  Exit  from 
Egyptian  Bondage,"  and  versified  many  chapters 
of  the  Bible.  She  read  the  New  Testament,  and 
particularly  those  parts  of  it  that  contain  the  most 
affecting  passages  in  the  history  of  our  Savior, 
with  the  deepest  emotion. 

In  her  intellectual  pursuits  and  attainments  only 
was  she  premature.  She  retained  unimpaired  the 
innocence,  simplicity,  and  modesty  of  a  child. 
We  have  had  descriptions  of  the  extreme  love 
liness  of  her  face,  and  gracefulness  of  her  person, 
from  less  doubtful  authority  than  a  fond  mother 


LUCRETIA     MAKIA     DAVIDSON.  ^43 

Our  country  towns  are  not  regulated  by  the  con 
ventional  systems  of  the  cities,  where  a  youthful 
beauty  is  warily  confined  to  the  nursery  and  the 
school,  till  the  prescribed  age  for  the  coming  out, 
the  coup-de-theatre  of  every  young  city-woman's 
life,  arrives.  In  the  country,  as  soon  as  a  girl  can 
contribute  to  the  pleasures  of  society,  she  is  in 
vited  into  it.  During  the  winter  of  1823,  Platts- 
burg  was  gay,  and  Miss  Davidson  was  eagerly 
sought  to  embellish  the  village  dances.  She  had 
been  at  a  dancing-school,  and,  like  most  young 
persons,  enjoyed  excessively  this  natural  exercise  ; 
for  that  may  be  called  natural  which  exists  among 
all  nations,  barbarous  and  civilized.  Mrs.  David 
son  has  given  a  history  of  her  daughter's  first  ball, 
which  all  young  ladies  at  least  will  thank  us  for 
transcribing  almost  verbatim,  as  it  places  her  more 
within  the  circle  of  their  sympathies.  Her  mother 
had  consented  to  her  attending  one  or  two  public 
assemblies,  in  the  hope  they  might  diminish  her 
extreme  timidity,  painful  both  to  Lucretia  and  to 
her  friends. 

The  day  arrived  ;  Mrs.  Davidson  was  consult 
ing  with  her  eldest  daughter  upon  the  all-important 
matter  of  the  dresses  for  the  evening.  Lucretia 
sat  by,  reading,  without  raising  her  eyes  from  the 
book,  one  of  the  Waverley  novels.  "  Mamma, 
what  shall  Luly  wear  ? "  asked  her  elder  sister, 
calling  her  by  the  pretty  diminutive  by  which  they 


244  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

usually  addressed  her  at  home.  "  Come,  Lucretia, 
what  color  do  you  wear  to-night  ?  "  "  Where  ? " 
•'  Where !  why,  to  the  assembly  to  be  sure."  "  The 
assembly  !  Is  it  to-night  ?  So  it  is  !  "  and  she  tossed 
away  the  book  and  danced  about  the  loom,  half 
wild  with  delight ;  her  sister  at  length  called  her 
to  order,  and  the  momentous  question  respecting 
the  dress  was  definitively  settled.  She  then  resumed 
her  reading,  and,  giving  no  farther  thought  to  the 
ball,  she  was  again  absorbed  in  her  book. 

This  did  not  result  from  carelessness  of  appear 
ance  or  indifference  to  dress.  On  the  contrary, 
she  was  rather  remarkable  for  that  nice  taste,  which 
belongs  to  an  eye  for  proportion  and  coloring  ;  and 
any  little  embellishment  or  ornament  she  wore, 
was  well  chosen,  and  well  placed.  But  she  had 
that  right  estimate  of  the  relative  value  of  objects, 
which  belongs  to  a  superior  mind.  When  the 
evening  approached,  the  star  of  the  ball  again 
shone  forth;  she  threw  aside  her  book,  and  began 
the  offices  of  the  toilet  with  girlish  interest,  and  it 
might  be  with  some  heart-beatings  at  the  probable 
effect  of  the  lovely  face  her  mirror  reflected.  Her 
sister  was  to  arrange  her  hair,  and  Lucretia  put  on 
her  dressing-gown  to  await  her  convenience  ;  but, 
when  the  time  came,  she  was  missing.  "  We 
called  her  in  vain,"  says  Mrs.  Davidson  ;  "  at  last, 
opening  the  parlor-door,  I  indistinctly  saw,  for  it 
was  twilight,  some  person  sitting  behind  the  great 


LUCRETIA     MARIA     DAVIDSON.          245 

close  stove.  I  approached  nearer,  and  found 
Lucretia  writing  poetry  !  moralizing  '  on  what  the 
world  calls  pleasure '  !  I  was  almost  dumb  with 
amazement.  She  was  eager  to  go,  delighted  with 
the  prospect  of  pleasure  before  her ;  yet  she  acted 
as  if  the  time  were  too  precious  to  spend  in  the 
necessary  preparations,  and  she  sat  still  and  fin 
ished  the  last  stanza,  while  I  stood  by,  mute  with 
astonishment  at  this  strange  bearing  in  a  girl  of 
fourteen,  preparing  to  attend  her  first  ball,  an 
event  she  had  anticipated  with  so  many  mingled 
emotions."  "  She  returned  from  the  assembly," 
continues  her  mother,  "  wild  with  delight.  '  Oh 
mamma,'  said  she,  '  I  wish  you  had  been  there  ! 
When  I  first  entered,  the  glare  of  light  dazzled  my 
eyes,  my  head  whizzed,  and  I  felt  as  if  I  were 
treading  on  air ;  all  was  so  gay,  so  brilliant !  But  I 
grew  tired  at  last,  and  was  glad  to  hear  sister  say 
it  was  time  to  go  home.'  " 

The  next  day  the  ball  was  dismissed  from  her 
mind,  and  she  returned  to  her  studies  with  her 
customary  ardor.  During  the  winter  she  read 
Josephus,  Charles  the  Fifth,  Charles  the  Twelfth, 
read  over  Shakspeare,  and  various  other  works  in 
prose  and  poetry.  She  particularly  liked  Addison, 
and  read,  almost  every  day,  a  portion  of  the 
Spectator.  Her  ardent  love  of  literature  seldom 
interfered  with  her  social  dispositions,  never  with 
her  domestic  affections.  She  was  the  life  and  joy 
of  the  home  circle. 


246 


AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 


Miss  Davidson's  tranquillity  was  again  interrupted 
by  those  misjudging  persons,  who,  mistaking  a 
woman's  first  duty  for  her  whole  duty,  were  much 
disturbed  by  this  little  girl's  devotion  to  literature. 
Her  conscience,  stimulated  by  her  affection,  easily 
took  the  alarm,  when  they  represented  her  mother 
as  sinking  beneath  her  burdens  ;  and  she  again 
secretly  resolved  to  abandon  her  beloved  studies, 
to  throw  away  her  pen,  and  to  devote  herself 
exclusively  to  domestic  occupations.  She  was 
now  older,  and  more  determined  and  rigorous  in 
the  execution  of  her  resolution.  But  to  carry  it 
into  effect,  as  those  will  easily  comprehend  who 
know  the  details  of  a  country  family  in  narrow 
circumstances,  required  strength  of  body  as  well  as 
strength  of  mind.  Great  demands  were  made  on 
her  feelings  about  this  time  by  two  extraordinary 
domestic  events  ;  the  marriage  and  removal  of  her 
elder  sister,  her  beloved  friend  and  companion  ;  and 
the  birth  of  another,  the  little  Margaret,  so  often 
the  fond  subject  of  her  poetry.  New,  and  doubt 
less  sanative,  emotions  were  called  forth  by  this 
last  event.  The  following  lines  from  her  published 
poems  were  written  about  this  time. 

ON   THE   BIRTH    OF   A    SISTER. 

"  SWEET  babe !  I  cannot  hope  that  thou  'It  be  freed 
Prom  woes,  to  all  since  earliest  time  decreed  ; 
But  mayst  thou  be  with  resignation  blessed, 
To  bear  each  evil,  howsoe'er  distressed. 


LUCBETIA     MARtA     DAVIDSON.          247 

"May  Hope  her  anchor  lend  amid  the  storm, 
And  o'er  the  tempest  rear  her  angel  form ; 
May  sweet  Benevolence,  whose  words  are  peace, 
To  the  rude  whirlwind  softly  whisper  'Cease!' 

"  And  may  Religion,  Heaven's  own  darling  child, 
Teach  thee  at  human  cares  and  griefs  to  smile  ; 
Teach  thee  to  look  beyond  this  world  of  woe, 
To  Heaven's  high  fount,  whence  mercies  ever  flow. 

"And  when  this  vale  of  years  is  safely  passed, 
When  death's  dark  curtain  shuts  the  scene  at  last, 
May  thy  freed  spirit  leave  this  earthly  sod. 
And  fly  to  seek  the  bosom  of  thy  God." 

The  following  lines,  never  before  published,  and, 
AS  we  think,  marked  by  more  originality  and  beauty, 
were  written  soon  after,  and,  as  those  above,  with 
ner  infant  sister  on  her  lap.  What  a  subject  for  a 
painter  would  this  beautiful  impersonation  of  genius 
and  love  have  presented  ! 

THE    SMILE    OF    INNOCENCE. 
[Written  at  the  age  of  fifteen.] 

"  THERE  is  a  smile  of  bitter  scorn, 

Which  curls  the  lip,  which  lights  the  eye  ; 
There  is  a  smile  in  beauty's  morn 
Just  rising  o'er  the  midnight  sky. 

"  There  is  a  smile  of  youthful  joy, 

When  hope's  bright  star 's  the  transient  guest ; 
There  is  a  smile  of  placid  age, 
Like  sunset  on  the  billow's  breast 

. 


248  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

"  There  is  a  smile,  the  maniac's  smile, 

Which  lights  tho  void  which  reaspn  leaves, 
And,  like  the  sunshine  through  a  cloud, 
Throws  shadows  o'er  the  song  she  -weaves. 

"  There  is  a  smile  of  love,  of  hope, 

Which  shines  a  meteor  through  life's  gloom 
And  there  's  a  smile,  Religion's  smile, 
Which  lights  the  weary  to  the  tomb. 

u  There  is  a  smile,  an  angel  smile, 

That  sainted  souls  behind  them  leave  ; 

There  is  a  smile,  which  shines  through  toil, 

And  warms  the  bosom,  though  in  grief. 

"  And  there  's  a  smile  on  nature's  face, 

When  evening  spreads  her  shades  around  ; 
It  is  a  smile  which  angels  might 
Upon  their  brightest  lists  enrol. 

"It  is  the  smile  of  innocence, 

Of  sleeping  infancy's  light  dream ; 
Like  lightning  on  a  summer's  eve, 
It  sheds  a  soft,  a  pensive  gleam. 

*  It  dances  round  the  dimpled  cheek. 

And  tells  of  happiness  within  ; 

It  smiles  what  it  can  never  speak, 

A  human  heart  devoid  of  sin." 

The  three  last  most  beautiful  stanzas  must  have 
been  inspired  by  the  sleeping  infant  on  her  lap, 
and  they  seem  to  have  reflected  her  soul's  image, 
as  we  have  seen  the  little  inland  lake  catch  and 
give  back  the  marvellous  beauty  of  the  sunset 
clouds. 


LUCRETIA     MARIA    DAVIDSON.          249 

At  this  time,  in  pursuance  of  her  resolution  tc 
c/evote  herself  to  domestic  duties,  gall  the  harness 
as  it  might,  she  wrote  no  poetry  except  with  her 
sister  in  her  arms.  Her  labors  were  augmented 
by  accidental  circumstances.  Her  elder  sister  had 
removed  to  Canada ;  her  mother,  who  was  very  ill, 
lost  her  monthly  nurse ;  the  infant,  too,  was  ill. 
Lucretia  for  a  while  sustained  her  multiplied  and 
varied  cares  with  firmness  and  efficiency.  The  be 
lief,  that  she  was  doing  her  duty,  gave  her  strength 
almost  preternatural.  I  shall  quote  her  mother's 
words,  for  I  should  fear  to  enfeeble,  by  any  version 
of  my  own,  the  beautiful  example  of  this  con 
scientious  little  being. 

"  Lucretia  astonished  us  all.  She  took  her 
station  in  my  sick-room,  and  devoted  herself  wholly 
to  the  mother  and  child  ;  and,  when  my  recovery 
became  doubtful,  instead  of  resigning  herself  to 
grief,  her  exertions  were  redoubled,  not  only  for 
the  comfort  of  the  sick,  but  she  was  an  angel 
of  consolation  to  her  afflicted  father.  We  were 
astonished  at  the  exertions  she  made,  and  the 
fatigue  she  endured  ;  for,  with  nerves  so  weak,  a 
constitution  so  delicate,  and  a  sensibility  so  ex 
quisite,  we  trembled  lest  she  should  sink  with 
anxiety  and  fatigue.  Until  it  ceased  to  be  neces 
sary,  she  performed  not  only  the  duty  of  a  nurse, 
but  acted  as  superintendent  of  the  household." 

When  her  mother  became  convalescent,  Ln- 
vn. — t 


250  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

cretia  continued  her  exclusive  devotion  to  house 
hold  affairs.  She  did  not  so  much  yield  to  her 
ruling  passion  as  to  look  into  a  book,  or  take  up 
a  pen,  as  was  to  be  expected  from  the  intimate 
union  of  soul  and  body.  When  her  mind  was 
starved,  it  became  dejected,  and  her  body  weak, 
and,  in  spite  of  her  filial  efforts,  her  mother  detected 
tears  on  her  cheeks,  was  alarmed  by  her  excessive 
paleness,  and  expressed  her  apprehensions  that  she 
was  ill.  "  No,  mamma,"  she  replied,  "  not  ill, 
only  out  of  spirits."  Her  mother  then  said  she  had 
observed,  that  of  late  she  neither  wrote  nor  read. 
She  burst  into  tears.  "  Oh  mamma,  don't  name 
it !  "  she  said  ;  "  I  have  resigned  all  these  things." 
A  full  explanation  followed,  and  the  generous 
mother  succeeded  in  convincing  her  child,  that  she 
had  been  misguided  in  the  course  she  had  adopted, 
that  the  strongest  wish  of  her  heart  was  to  advance 
her  in  her  literary  career,  and  that  for  this  she 
would  make  every  exertion  and  sacrifice ;  at  the 
same  time  she  very  judiciously  advised  her  to 
intersperse  her  literary  pursuits  with  those  domestic 
occupations  so  essential  to  prepare  every  woman 
in  our  land  for  a  housewife,  her  probable  destiny. 

This  conversation  had  a  most  happy  effect. 
The  stream  flowed  again  in  its  natural  channels, 
and  Lucretia  became  cheerful,  read,  and  wrote,  and 
practised  drawing.  She  had  a  decided  taste  for 
drawing,  and  excelled  in  it.  She  sung  over  her 


LUCRETIA     MARIA     DAVIDSON.          251 

*vork,  and  in  every  way  manifested  the  healthy 
condition,  that  results  from  a  wise  obedience  to 
the  laws  of  nature. 

We  trust  there  are  thousands  of  young  ladies  in 
our  land,  who,  at  the  call  of  filial  duty,  would 
cheerfully  perform  domestic  labor ;  but,  if  there  are 
any,  who  would  make  a  strong  love  for  more  ele 
vated  and  refined  pursuits  an  excuse  for  neglecting 
these  coarser  duties,  we  would  commend  them  to 
the  example  of  this  conscientious  child.  She,  if 
any  could,  might  have  pleaded  her  genius,  or  her 
delicate  health,  or  her  mother's  most  tender  indul 
gence,  for  a  failure,  that,  in  her,  would  have  hardly 
seemed  to  us  a  fault. 

During  this  summer  she  went  to  Canada  with 
her  mother,  where  she  revelled  in  an  unexplored 
library,  and  enjoyed  most  heartily  the  social 
pleasures  at  her  sister's.  They  had  a  family  con 
cert  of  music  every  evening.  Mrs.  Townsend, 
her  sister,  accompanied  the  instruments  with  her 
fine  voice.  Lucretia  was  often  moved  by  the  music, 
and  particularly  by  her  favorite  song,  Moore's 
"  Farewell  to  my  Harp."  This  she  would  have 
sung  to  her  at  twilight,  when  it  would  excite  a 
shivering  through  her  whole  frame.  On  one  occa 
sion  she  became  cold  and  pale,  and  was  near 
fainting,  and  afterwards  poured  her  excited  feelings 
forth  in  the  following  address  ; 

-     • 


AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 
TO   MY    SISTER 

"WHEN  evening  spreads  her  shades  around, 
And  darkness  fills  the  arch  of  Heaven ; 
When  not  a  murmur,  nor  a  sound 
To  fancy's  sportive  ear  is  given ; 

'When  the  broad  orb  of  Heaven  is  bright 

And  looks  around  with  golden  eye ; 
When  nature,  softened  by  her  light, 
Seems  calmly,  solemnly  to  lie ; 

'  Then,  when  our  thoughts  are  raised  above 
This  world,  and  all  this  world  can  give  ; 
Oh  sister,  sing  the  song  I  love, 
And  tears  of  gratitude  receive. 

4  The  song  which  thrills  my  bosom's  core, 

And  hovering,  trembles,  half  afraid, 
Oh  sister,  sing  the  song  once  more, 
Which  ne'er  for  mortal  ear  was  made. 

"'T  were  almost  sacrilege  to  sing 

Those  notes  amid  the  glare  of  day  ; 
Notes  borne  by  angel's  purest  wing, 
And  wafted  by  their  breath  away. 

"  When  sleeping  in  my  grass-grown  bed, 
Should'st  thou  still  linger  here  above, 
Wilt  thou  not  kneel  beside  my  head, 
And,  sister,  sing  the  song  I  love  ?  " 

We  insert  here  a  striking  circumstance  that  oc 
curred  during  a  visit  she  made  to  her  sister  the 
following  year.  She  was  at  that  time  employed 


LUCRETIA     MAK1A     DAVIDSON.  253 

m  writing  her  longest  published  poem,  "  Amir 
Khan,"  Immediately  after  breakfast  she  went 
out  to  walk,  and,  not  returning  to  dinner,  nor  even 
when  the  evening  approached,  Mr.  Townsend  set 
forth  in  search  of  her.  He  met  her,  and,  as  her 
eye  encountered  his,  she  smiled  and  blushed,  as  if 
she  felt  conscious  of  having  been  a  little  ridiculous. 
She  said  she  had  called  on  a  friend,  and,  having 
found  her  absent,  had  gone  to  her  library,  where 
she  had  been  examining  some  volumes  of  an  En 
cyclopaedia,  to  aid  her,  we  believe,  in  the  Oriental 
story  she  was  employed  upon.  She  forgot  her 
dinner  and  her  tea,  and  had  remained  reading, 
standing,  and  with  her  hat  on,  till  the  disappear 
ance  of  daylight  brought  her  to  her  senses. 

In  the  interval  between  her  visits,  she  wrote 
several  letters  to  her  friends,  which  are  chiefly 
interesting  from  the  indications  they  afford  of  her 
social  and  affectionate  spirit.  We  subjoin  a  few 
extracts.  She  had  returned  to  Plattsburg  amid 
the  bustle  of  a  Fourth  of  July  celebration.  "  We 
found,"  she  says,  "  our  brother  Yankees  had 
turned  out  well  to  celebrate  the  Fourth.  The 
wharf  from  the  hill  to  the  very  edge  of  the  water, 
even  the  rafts  and  sloops,  were  black  with  the 
crowd.  If  some  very  good  genius,  who  presided 
over  my  destiny  at  that  time,  had  not  spread  its 
protecting  pinions  round  me,  like  every  thing  else 
in  my  possession,  I  should  have  lost  even  my 


£54  AMERICAN     BIOGKAPH7. 

precious  self.  What  a  truly  lamentable  accident  it 
would  have  been  just  at  that  moment !  We  took 
a  carriage,  and  were  extricating  ourselves  from  the 

crowd,  when  Mr. ,  who  had  pressed  himself 

through,  came  to  shake  hands,  and  bid  good  bye. 

He  is  now  on  his  way  to  .  Well !  here 

is  health,  happiness,  and  '  a  bushel  of  love  '  to  all 
married  people  !  Is  it  possible,  you  ask,  that  Sister 
Lue  could  ever  have  permitted  such  a  toast  to  pass 
her  lips  ?  We  arrived  safely  at  our  good  old 
house,  and  found  every  thing  as  we  had  left  it. 
The  chimney  swallows  had  taken  up  their  residence 
hi  the  chimney,  and  rattled  the  soot  from  their 
sable  habitations  over  the  hearth  and  carpet.  It 
looked  like  ^desolation  indeed.  The  grass  is  high 
in  the  door-yard ;  the  wild-roses,  double-roses,  and 
sweet-briar  are  in  full  bloom,  and,  take  it  all  in 
all,  the  spot  looks  much  as  the  garden  of  Eden 
did  after  the  expulsion  of  Adam  and  Eve. 

"  We  had  just  done  tea  when  M came  in, 

and  sat  an  hour  or  two.  What,  in  the  name 
of  wonder,  could  he  have  found  to  talk  about 
all  that  time  ?  Something,  dear  sister,  you  would 
not  have  thought  of;  something  of  so  little  con 
sequence,  that  the  time  he  spent  glided  swiftly, 
almost  unnoticed.  I  had  him  all  to  myself,  tete- 
a-tete. 

"  I  had  almost  forgotten  to  tell  you  I  had  yes 
terday  a  present  of  a  most  beautiful  bouquet.  J 


LUCHET1A     MAUIA      DAVIDSON.          255 

wore  it  to   church    in  the  afternoon  ;  but   it  has 
withered  and  faded, 

'Withered  like  the  world's  treasures,  • 
Faded  like  the  world's  pleasures.' " 

From  the  sort  of  mystical,  girl-like  allusions  in 
the  above  extracts,  to  persons  whose  initials  only 
are  given,  to  bouquets  and  tete-d-tetes,  we  infer 
that  she  thus  early  had  declared  lovers.  Even  at 
this  age, -for  she  was  not  yet  sixteen,  her  mother 
;ays  she  had  resolved  never  to  marry.  "  Her 
/easons,"  continues  her  mother,  "  for  this  decision, 
were,  that  her  peculiar  habits,  her  entire  devotion 
to  books  and  scribbling  (as  she  called  it),  unfitted 
her  for  the  care  of  a  family.  She  could  not  do 
justice  to  husband  or  children  while  her  whole 
soul  was  absorbed  in  literary  pursuits  ;  she  was  not 
willing  to  resign  them  for  any  man,  therefore  she 
had  formed  the  resolution  to  lead  a  single  life  ; " 
a  resolution  that  would  have  lasted  probably  till 
she  had  passed  under  the  dominion  of  a  stronger 
passion  than  her  love  for  the  Muses.  With  affec 
tions  like  hers,  and  a  most  lovely  person  and 
attractive  manners,  her  resolution  would  scarcely 
have  enabled  her  to  escape  the  common  destiny 
of  her  sex. 

The  following  is  an  extract  from  a  letter  written 
after  participating  in  several  gay  parties; 

"  Indeed    my  dear  father,  I  have  turned  round 


256  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

like  a  top  for  the  last  two  or  three  weeks,  and  am 
glad  to  seat  myself  once  more  in  my  favorite 
corner.  How,  think  you,  should  I  stand  it  to  be 
whirled  in  the  giddy  round  of  dissipation  ?  I  come 
home  from  the  blaze  of  light,  from  the  laugh  of 
mirth,  the  smile  of  complaisance  and  seeming 
happiness,  and  the  vision  passes  from  my  mind 
like  the  brilliant,  but  transitory  hues  of  the  rainbow  ; 
and  I  think  with  regret  on  the  many,  very  many 
happy  hours  I  have  passed  with  you  an'd  Anne. 
Oh,  I  do  want  to  see  you,  indeed  I  do.  You 
think  me  wild,  thoughtless,  and  perhaps  unfeeling  ; 
but  I  assure  you  I  can  be  sober,  I  sometimes  think, 
and  1  can  and  do  feel.  Why  have  you  not  written  ? 
Not  one  word  in  almost  three  weeks  !  Where 
are  your  promises  of  punctual  correspondence  ? 
Mamma  feels  almost  distracted.  '  They  have  for 
gotten  me  ! '  she  said  to-day  when  the  boat  arrived 
and  brought  no  letter,  and  burst  into  tears.  Oh, 
do  write." 

"  Dear  brother  and  sister,  I  must  write ;  but, 
dear  Anne,  I  am  now  doomed  to  dim  your  eye  and 
cloud  your  brow,  for  I  know,  that  what  I  have  to 
communicate  will  surprise  and  distress  you.  Our 
dear,  dear  cousin  John  is  dead  !  Oh,  I  need  not 
tell  you  how  much,  how  deeply  he  is  lamented. 
You  knew  him,  and,  like  every  one  else  who  did, 
you  loved  him.  Poor  Eliza  !  how  my  heart  aches 
for  her !  her  father,  her  mother,  her  brother,  all 


LUCHETIA  MARIA  DAVIDSON.   257 

gone,  almost  the  last,  the  dearest  tie  is  broken 
which  bound  her  to  life.  What  a  vacancy  must 
there  be  in  her  heart.  How  fatal  would  it  prove 
to  almost  every  hope  in  life,  were  we  allowed  even 
a  momentary  glimpse  of  futurity  !  for  often  half 
the  enjoyments  of  life  consist  in  the  anticipation  of 
pleasures,  which  may  never  be  ours." 

Soon  after  this,  Lucretia  witnessed  the  death  of 
a  beloved  young  friend.  It  was  the  first  death  she 
had  seen,  and  it  had  its  natural  effect  on  a  reflect 
ing  and  sensitive  mind.  Her  thoughts  wandered 
through  eternity  by  the  light  of  religion,  the  only 
light  that  penetrates  beyond  the  death-bed.  She 
wrote  many  religious  pieces  ;  but,  as  I  hope  another 
volume  of  her  poems  will  be  given  to  the  public, 
I  have  merely  selected  the  following. 

"  OH  that  the  eagle's  wing  were  mine, 

I  'd  soar  above  the  dreary  earth ; 
I  'd  spread  my  wings,  and  rise  to  join 
The  immortal  fountain  of  my  birth. 

u  For  what  is  joy  ?  How  soon  it  fades, 

The  childish  vision  of  an  hour ! 
Though  warm  and  brilliant  are  its  shades, 
'Tis  but  a  frail  and  fading  flower. 

u  And  what  is  hope  ?     It  is  a  light 

Which  leads  us  on,  deluding  ever, 
Till  lost  amid  the  shades  of  night 
We  sink,  and  then  it  flies  for  ever. 

VOL.  VII.  17 


258  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY.        vl 

1  And  what  is  love  ?     It  is  a  dream, 

A  brilliant  fable  framed  by  youth  ; 
A  bubble  dancing  on  life's  stream, 
And  sinking  'neath  the  eye  of  truth. 

"  And  what  are  honor,  glory,  fame, 

But  death's  dark  watch-words  to  the  graye  ? 
The  victim  dies,  and  lo  !  his  name 
Is  stamped  in  life's  red-rolling  wave. 

"  And  what  are  all  the  joys  of  life, 
But  vanity,  and  toil,  and  woe  ? 
What  but  a  bitter  cup  of  grief, 

With  dregs  of  sin  and  death  below  ? 

"This  world  is  but  the  first  dark  gate 

Unfolded  to  the  wakening  soul ; 
But  Death  unerring,  led  by  Fate, 

Shall  Heaven's  bright  portals  backward  roll. 

"  Then  shall  this  unchained  spirit  fly 
On,  to  the  God  who  gave  it  life ; 
Rejoicing,  as  it  soars  on  high, 

Released  from  danger,  doubt,  and  strife 

"There  will  it  pour  its  anthems  forth, 
Bending  before  its  Maker's  throne, 
The  great  I  AM,  who  gave  it  birth, 
The  Almighty  God,  the  dread  Unknown." 

During  this  winter  her  application  to  her  books 
was  so  unremitting,  that  her  parents  again  became 
alarmed  for  her  health,  and  persuaded  her  occa 
sionally  to  join  in  the  amusements  of  Plattsburg. 
She  came  home  one  night  at  twelve  o'clock  from 


LUCRETIA    MARIA     DAVIDSON.          259 

a  ball ;  and,  after  giving  a  most  lively  account  of 
all  she  had  seen  and  heard  to  her  mother,  who,  as 
usual,  had  been  sitting  up  for  her,  she  quietly 
seated  herself  at  the  table,  and  wrote  her  "  Reflec 
tions  after  leaving  a  Ball-room."  Her  spirit, 
though  it  glided  with  kind  sympathies  into  the 
common  pleasures  of  youth,  never  seemed  to  relax 
its  tie  to  the  spiritual  world. 

During  the  summer  of  1824,  Captain  Partridge 
visited  Plattsburg  with  his  soldier-scholars.  Mili 
tary  display  had  its  usual  exciting  effect  on 
Miss  Davidson's  imagination,  and  she  addressed 
"  To  the  Vermont  Cadets  "  the  following  spirited 
stanzas,  which  might  have  come  from  the  martial 
Clorinda. 

"  PASS  on !  for  the  bright  torch  of  glory  is  beaming ; 
Go,  wreathe  round  your  brows  the   green  laurels  ot 

fame ; 

Around  you  a  halo  is  brilliantly  streaming, 
And  history  lingers  to  write  down  each  name. 

"Yes ;  ye  are  the  pillars  of  Liberty's  throne ; 
When  around  you  the  banner  of  glory  shall  wave, 
America  proudly  shall  claim  you  her  own  ; 
And  Freedom  and  Honor  shall  pause  o'er  each  grava 

"  A  watch-fire  of  glory,  a  beacon  of  light, 
Shall  guide  you  to  honor,  shall  point  you  to  fame  ; 
The  heart  that  shrinks  back,  be  it  buried  in  night, 
And  withered  with  dim  tears  of  sorrow  and  sham* 


260  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

"Though  death  should  await  you,  't  were  glorious  to  die 
With  the  glow  of  pure  honor  still  warm  on  the  brow  ; 
With  a  light  sparkling  brightly  around  the  dim  eye, 
Like  the  smile  of  a  spirit  still  lingering  below. 

"  Pass  on !  and  when  War  in  his  strength  shall  arise-, 
Rush  on  to  the  conflict,  and  conquer  or  die  ; 
Let  the  clash  of  your  arms  proudly  roll  to  the  skies 
Be  blest,  if  victorious,  —  and  cursed,  if  you  fly !" 

It  was  about  this  time  that  she  finished  "  Amir 
Khan,"  and  began  a  tale  of  some  length,  which 
she  entitled  "  The  Recluse  of  the  Saranac." 
Amir  Khan  has  long  been  before  the  public,  but 
we  think  it  has  suffered  from  a  general  and  very 
natural  distrust  of  precocious  genius.  The  versi 
fication  is  graceful,  the  story  beautifully  developed, 
and  the  Orientalism  well  sustained.  We  think  it 
would  not  have  done  discredit  to  our  best  popular 
poets  in  the  meridian  of  their  fame.  As  the 
production  of  a  secluded  girl  of  fifteen,  it  seems' 
prodigious.  On  her  mother  accidentally  discov 
ering  and  reading  a  part  of  her  romance,  Lucretia 
manifested  her  usual  shrinkings,  and  with  many 
tears  exacted  a  promise  that  she  would  not  again 
look  at  it  till  it  was  finished.  She  never  again 
saw  it  till  after  her  daughter's  death.  Lucretia 
had  a  most  whimsical  fancy  for  pasting  narrow 
slips  of  paper  together,  and  writing  on  both  sides ; 
and  once  playfully  boasting  to  her  mother  of 
having  written  some  yards  of  poetry,  she  produced 


LUCRETIA     MARIA     DAVIDSON.          261 

a  roll,  and,  forbidding  her  approach,  she  measured 
off  twenty  yards ! 

She  continued  her  favorite  employments,  but 
now  with  a  secret  disquietude  that  did  not  escape 
Mrs.  Davidson's  vigilant  eye.  She  claimed  her 
child's  unqualified  confidence,  and  Lucretia,  laying 
her  head  on  her  mother's  bosom,  and  weeping  bit 
terly,  confessed  her  irrepressible  longings  for  more 
effective  means  and  helps  to  pursue  her  studies. 
"  Dear  mamma,"  she  said,  "  had  I  but  half  the 
advantages  which  I  see  others  slighting,  I  should 
be  the  happiest  of  the  happy.  I  am  now  sixteen 
years  old,  and  what  do  I  know  ?  Nothing  ! 
nothing,  indeed,  compared  with  what  I  have  yet 
to  learn.  The  time  is  rapidly  passing,  allotted  to 
the  improvement  of  youth,  and  how  dark  are  my 
prospects  in  regard  to  the  favorite  vafh  of  my 
heart  !  "  Her  mother,  instead  of  remonstrating, 
wept  with  her,  and  her  sympathy  ^ns  more 
efficacious  than  the  most  elaborate  reascmng  upon 
the  futility  and  extravagance  of  her  child's  desires. 
"  She  became  more  cheerful,"  says  her  mother, 
"  though  it  was  still  apparent  that  her  hrout  was 
ill  at  ease." 

She  often  expressed  a  wish  to  spend  onr  fort 
night  alone,  even  to  the  exclusion  of  her  little 
pet  sister ;  and  Mrs.  Davidson,  eager  to  afford  her 
every  gratification  in  her  power,  had  a  room  pre 
pared  for  her  recess.  Her  dinner  was  sent  up  to 


262  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

her.  She  declined  coming  down  to  tea,  and  her 
mother,  on  going  to  her  apartment,  found  her 
writing,  her  plate  untouched.  Some  secret  joy  it 
was  natural  the  mother  should  feel  at  this  devotion 
to  intellectual  pleasure ;  but  her  good  sense,  or  her 
maternal  anxiety,  got  the  better  of  it,  and  she 
persuaded  Lucretia  to  consent  to  the  interruption 
of  a  daily  walk.  It  was  during  one  of  these 
walks,  that  she  was  first  seen  by  the  gentleman 
who  was  destined  to  govern  the  brief  space  of 
life  that  remained  to  her.  His  benevolent  mind 
had  been  interested  by  the  reputation  of  her 
genius  and  loveliness,  and  no  wonder  that  the 
beautiful  form  in  which  it  was  enshrined  should 
have  called  this  interest  into  sudden  and  effective 
action.  Miss  Davidson  was  just  sixteen.  Her 
complexion  was  the  most  beautiful  brunette,  clear 
and  brilliant,  of  that  warm  tint  that  seems  to 
belong  to  lands  of  the  sun  rather  than  to  our 
chilled  regions.  Indeed,  her  whole  organization, 
mental  as  well  as  physical,  her  deep  and  quick 
sensibility,  her  early  developement,  were  charac 
teristics  of  a  warmer  clime  than  ours.  Her  stature 
was  low,  her  form  slight  and  symmetrical,  her 
hair  profuse,  dark,  and  curling,  her  mouth  and 
nose  regular,  and  as  beautiful  as  if  they  had  been 
chiselled  by  an  inspired  artist ;  and  through  this 
fitting  medium  beamed  her  angelic  spirit. 

Tho  gentleman,  to  whom  we  have  alluded,  at 


LUCRETIA     MARIA     DAVIDSON.          263 

once  determined  to  give  to  this  rich  gem  whatever 
polishing  could  be  given  by  adventitious  circum 
stances.  He  went  to  her  father's  house,  offered 
to  take  her  under  his  protection,  and  to  give  her 
every  facility  for  education  that  could  be  obtained 
in  this  country.  Some  conversation  ensued,  as 
to  different  institutions  for  education,  and  Mrs. 
Willard's  celebrated  school  at  Troy  was  decided 
on.  "  You  do  not  know,  Sir,"  says  her  mother, 
in  a  letter  to  Lucretia's  patron,  written  long  after, 
"  the  gratitude,  the  depth  of  feeling,  which  your 
disinterested  conduct  excited  in  our  lamented 
child.  She  had  left  the  room  when  you  went 
away ;  I  followed  her.  She  had  thrown  herself 
into  a  chair.  Her  face  was  as  pale  as  death  ;  I 
took  her  hands  in  mine ;  they  were  as  cold  as 
marble.  I  spoke,  she  made  no  reply,  and  I  dis 
covered  she  had  fainted  !  After  the  application  of 
suitable  remedies,  she  began  to  recover,"  continues 
her  mother,  "  and  burst  into  tears,  and  wept  long 
and  violently.  When  she  was  sufficiently  com 
posed,  I  asked  her  if  she  was  willing  to  accept 
your  generous  offer.  '  Oh  yes,  mamma  !  oh  yes  ! 
but  my  feelings  overpower  me.'  " 

On  the  same  evening  she  wrote  the  following 
letter  to  her  brother  and  sister. 

"  What  think  you  ?  '  Ere  another  moon  shall 
fill  round  as  my  shield,'  I  shall  be  at  Mrs.  Willard's 
Seminary.  A  kind  and  generous  friend  has  in 
vited,  ves,  urged  me,  to  accept  an  offer  so 


264  ABIER1CAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

every  way  advantageous  to  myself;  and  his  be 
nevolent  offer  has  been  accepted.  In  a  fortnight 
I  shall  probably  have  left  Plattsburg,  not  to  return 
at  least  until  the  expiration  of  six  months.  Oh  I 
I  am  so  happy !  so  delighted !  I  shall  scarcely 
eat,  drink,  or  sleep  for  a  month  to  come.  You 
and  Anne  must  both  write  to  me  often,  and  you 
must  not  laugh  when  you  think  of  poor  Luly  in 
the  far-famed  city  of  Troy,  dropping  handker 
chiefs,  keys,  gloves,  &,c.,  in  short,  something  of 
every  thing  I  have.  It  is  well  if  you  can  read 
what  I  have  written,  for  papa  and  mamma  are 
talking,  and  my  head  whirls  like  a  top.  Oh !  how 
my  poor  head  aches !  Such  a  surprise  as  I  have 
had ! " 

On  the  24th  of  November,  1824,  she  left  home, 
health  on  her  cheek  and  in  her  bosom,  and  flushed 
with  the  most  ardent  expectations  of  getting 
rapidly  forward  in  the  career  her  desires  were 
fixed  upon.  But  even  at  this  moment  her  fond 
devotion  to  her  mother  was  beautifully  expressed 
in  some  stanzas,  which  she  left  where  they  would 
meet  her  eye  as  soon  as  the  parting  tears  were 
wiped  away.  These  stanzas  are  already  pub 
lished,  and  I  shall  only  quote  two  from  them, 
striking  for  their  tenderness  and  truth. 

"To  tliee  my  lay  is  due,  the  simple  song 

Which  nature  gave  me  at  life's  opening  day, 
To  thee  these  rude,  these  untaught  strains  belong, 
Whose  heart,  indulgent,  wil]  not  spurn  my  lav. 


LUCRETIA     MARIA     DAVIDSON  265 

u  Oh  say,  amid  this  wilderness  of  life, 

What  bosom  would  have  throbbed  like  thin*;  fc*  me  ? 
Who  would  have  smiled  responsive  ?    Who  in  grief 
Would  e'er  have  felt,  and  feeling  grieved  like  thee  ?  " 

The  following  extracts  from  her  letters,  which 
were  always  filled  with  yearnings  for  home,  will 
show  that  her  affections  were  the  strong-hold  of 
her  nature. 

"  Troy  Seminary,  December  6th,  1824.  Here  I 
am  at  last ;  and  what  a  naughty  girl  I  was,  when  I 
was  at  Aunt  Schuyler's,  that  I  did  not  write  you 
every  thing !  But  to  tell  the  truth,  I  was  topsy 
turvy,  and  so  I  am  now  ;  but,  in  despite  of  calls 
from  the  young  ladies,  and  of  a  hundred  new  faces, 
and  new  names  which  are  constantly  ringing  in  my 
ears,  I  have  set  myself  down,  and  will  not  rise  until 
I  have  written  an  account  of  every  thing  to  my 
dear  mother.  I  am  contented  ;  yet,  notwithstand 
ing,  I  have  once  or  twice  turned  a  wishful  glance 
towards  my  dear-loved  home.  Amidst  all  the 
parade  of  wealth,  in  the  splendid  apartments  of 
luxury,  I  can  assure  you,  my  dearest  mother,  that 
I  had  rather  be  with  you  in  our  own  lowly  homet 
than  in  the  midst  of  all  this  ceremony." 

"  Oh,  mamma,  T  like  Mrs.  Willard.  '  And  so 
this  is  my  girl,  Mrs.  Schuyler  ? '  said  she,  and  took 
me  affectionately  by  the  hand.  Oh,  I  want  to  see 
you  so  much  !  But  I  must  not  think  of  it  now.  I 
must  learn  as  fast  as  I  can,  and  think  only  of  my 
vir. — x 


266  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

studies.  Dear,  dear  little  Margaret !  kiss  her  and 
the  little  boys  for  me.  How  is  dear  father  getting 
on  in  this  rattling  world  ?  " 

The  letters  that  followed  were  tinged  with 
melancholy  from  her  "  bosom's  depth,"  and  her 
mother  has  withheld  them.  In  a  subsequent  one 
she  says,  "  I  have  written  two  long  letters  ;  but  1 
wrote  when  1  was  ill,  and  they  savor  too  much  of 
sadness.  I  feel  a  little  better  now,  and  have  again 
commenced  my  studies.  Mr. *  called  here  to 
day.  Oh,  he  is  very  good  !  He  stayed  some  time, 
and  brought  a  great  many  books ;  but  I  fear  I  shall 
have  little  time  to  read  aught  but  what  appertains 
to  my  studies.  I  am  consulting  Kames's  '  Elements 
of  Criticism,'  studying  French,  attending  to  Geolo 
gical  lectures,  composition,  reading,  paying  some 
little  attention  to  painting,  and  learning  to  dance." 

A  subsequent  letter  indicated  great  unhappiness 
and  debility,  and  awakened  her  mother's  appre 
hensions.  The  next  was  written  more  cheerfully. 
"  As  I  fly  to  you,"  she  says,  "  for  consolation  in 
all  my  sorrows,  so  I  turn  to  you,  my  dear  mother, 
to  participate  all  my  joys.  The  clouds  that  envel- 

*Thia  hiatus  should  be  filled  with  the  name  of  her 
benefactor;  but, as  his  patronage  was  marked  with  the 
delicacy  that  characterizes  true  generosity,  I  cannot, 
without  his  expressed  permission,  publish  his  name.  The 
world's  praise  could  be  little  to  him,  who  enjoyed  the 
f  \titude  of  this  young  earthly  angel. 


LUCRET1A     MARIA     DAVIDSON.          267 

oped  my  mind  have  dispersed,  and  I  turn  to  you 
with  a  far  lighter  heart  than  when  I  last  wrote. 

The  ever  kind  Mr. called  yesterday."     She 

then  describes  the  paternal  interest  her  benefactor 
took  in  her  health  and  happiness,  expresses  a 
trembling  apprehension  lest  he  should  be  disap 
pointed  in  the  amount  of  her  improvement,  and 
laments  the  loss  of  time  from  her  frequent  indis 
positions.  "  How,  my  dear  mother,"  she  says, 
"  shall  I  express  my  gratitude  to  my  kind,  my 
excellent  friend  ?  What  is  felt  as  deeply  as  I  feel 
this  obligation,  cannot  be  expressed  ;  but  I  can  feel, 
and  do  feel."  It  must  be  remembered  that  these 
were  not  formal  and  obligatory  letters  to  her 
benefactor,  but  the  spontaneous  overflowing  of 
her  heart  in  her  private  correspondence  with  her 
mother. 

We  now  come  to  a  topic,  to  which  we  would 
ask  the  particular  attention  of  our  readers.  Ow 
ing  to  many  causes,  but  chiefly,  we  believe,  to 
the  demand  for  operatives  in  every  department 
of  society  in  our  country,  the  work  of  school 
education  is  crowded  into  a  very  few  years.  The 
studies,  instead  of  being  selected,  spread  through 
the  whole  circle  of  the  sciences.  The  school 
period  is  the  period  of  the  young  animal's  phys 
ical  growth  and  developement ;  the  period  when 
the  demands  of  the  physical  nature  are  strongest, 
and  the  mental  weakest.  Then  our  young  men 


268  AMERICAN    BIOGRAPHY. 

are  immured  in  colleges,  law  schools,  divinity 
schools,  &c.,  and  our  young  ladies  in  boarding- 
schools,  where,  even  in  the  best  regulated,  the 
provisions  for  exercise  in  the  open  air  are  very 
insufficient.  In  the  city  schools,  we  are  aware, 
that  the  difficulties  to  be  overcome  to  achieve  this 
great  object  are  nearly  insuperable,  we  believe 
quite  so ;  and,  if  they  are  so,  should  not  these 
establishments  be  placed  in  the  country  ?  Are  not 
health  and  physical  vigor  the  basis  of  mental 
health  and  vigor,  of  usefulness  and  happiness  ? 
What  a  proportion  of  the  miseries  of  the  more 
favored  classes  of  our  females  result  from  their 
invalidism !  What  feebleness  of  purpose,  weak 
ness  of  execution,  dejection,  fretfulness,  mental 
and  moral  imbecility ! 

The  case  would  not  be  so  bad,  if  the  misery 
ended  with  one  generation,  with  the  mother,  cut 
off  in  the  midst  of  her  days,  or  dragging  on,  to 
threescore  and  ten,  her  unenjoyed  and  profitless 
existence.  But  that  it  is  not  so,  there  are  hosts 
of  living  witnesses  in  the  sickly,  pale,  drooping 
children  of  our  nurseries.  There  are  multitudes 
who  tell  us,  that  our  climate  will  not  permit  a 
delicate  female  to  exercise  in  the  open  air.  If  the 
climate  is  bad,  so  much  the  more  important  is  it  to 
acquire  strength  to  resist  it.  Besides,  if  out-of- 
doors  exercise  is  not  at  all  times  attractive,  we 
know  it  is  not  impossible.  We  know  delicately 


LUCRETIA     MARIA     1   AflUSON.  269 

bred  females,  who,  during  some  of  our  hardest 
winters,  have  not  for  more  than  a  day  or  two  lost 
their  exercise  abroad.  When,  in  addition  to  the 
privation  of  pleasurable  exercise,  (for  the  walk  in 
funeral  procession,  attended  by  martinets,  and 
skewered  by  city  decorums,  can  scarcely  be  called 
pleasurable,}  the  school  girl  is  confined  to  her 
tasks  from  eight  to  ten  hours  in  rooms  sometimes 
too  cold,  sometimes  too  hot,  where  her  fellow  suf 
ferers  are  en  masse,  can  we  wonder  at  the  result  ? 

How  far  this  evil  may  have  operated  in  shorten 
ing  the  life  of  Lucretia  Davidson,  we  cannot  say  ; 
but  we  cannot  but  think,  that  her  devoted  and 
watchful  friend  erred  in  sending  a  creature  so  deli 
cate  in  her  construction  to  any  boarding-school, 
even  the  best-conducted  institution.  We  certainly 
do  not  mean  to  express  or  imply  any  censure  of 
the  "  Troy  Seminary."  We  have  no  personal 
knowledge  of  it ;  but  we  believe  no  similar  institu 
tion  has  more  the  confidence  of  the  community  ; 
and,  as  it  has  been  now  many  years  established 
and  tried,  it  is  fair  to  believe  it  deserves  it. 

An  arrangement  of  these  boarding-schools,  that 
bore  very  hard  upon  Miss  Davidson,  was  the 
public  examination.*  These  examinations  are 

*  I  did  not  intend  remarking  upon  the  influence  these 
examinations  have  on  the  scholar's  progress ;  but  I  can 
not  forbear  quoting  the  following  pertinent  passage  from 
President  Hopkins's  Inaugural  Address.  "There  are 


5270  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY 

appalling  to  a  sensitive  mind.  Could  they  b& 
proved  to  be  of  manifest  advantage  to  the  scholar 
ship  of  the  young  ladies,  we  should  doubt  their 
utility  on  the  whole.  But,  even  where  they  are 
conducted  with  perfect  fairness,  are  they  a  test  of 
scholarship  ?  Do  not  the  bold  outface,  and  the 
indolent  evade  them  ?  The  studious  are  stimu 
lated,  and  the  sensitive  and  shrinking,  if  stimu 
lated,  are  appalled  and  disconcerted  by  them  ;  so 
that  the  condiment  affects  those  only,  whose 
appetites  are  already  too  keen. 

But  the  experience  of  Miss  Davidson  is  more 
persuasive  than  any  reasoning  of  ours,  and  we 
shall  give  it  in  her  own  language,  in  occasional 
extracts  from  her  letters  to  her  mother. 

"  We  now  begin  to  dread  the  examination.  Oh, 
horrible  !  seven  weeks,  and  I  shall  be  posted  up 
before  all  Troy,  all  the  students  from  Schenectady, 
and  perhaps  five  hundred  others.  What  shall  I 
do?" 

"  I  have  just  received  a  note  from  Mr. , 

in  which  he  speaks  of  your  having  written  to  him 
of  my  illness.  I  was  indeed  ill,  and  very  ill  for 

not  wanting  schools  in  this  country,  in  which  the  real 
interests  and  progress  of  the  pupils  are  sacrificed  to 
their  appearance  at  examination.  But  the  vanity  of 
parents  must  be  flattered,  and  the  memory  is  overbur 
dened,  and  studies  are  forced  on  prematurely,  and  a 
system  of  infant-school  instruction  is  carried  forward 
into  maturer  life." 


L.UCRETIA     MARIA     DAVIDSON.  271 

several  days,  and  in  my  deepest  dejection  wrote 
to  you  ;  but  do  not,  my  dearest  mother,  be  alarmed 
about  me.  My  appetite  is  not  perfectly  good, 
but  quite  as  well  as  when  I  was  at  home.  Mr. 

's  letter  was  accompanied  by  a  French 

Testament.  The  letter  was  just  such  a  one  a? 
was  calculated  to  soothe  my  feelings,  and  set  me 
completely  at  rest,  and  I  begin  to  think  he  ii 
truly  my  '  guardian  angel.'  He  expressed  a  wish 
that  my  stay  here  should  be  prolonged.  What 
think  you,  mother  ?  I  should  be  delighted  by 
such  an  arrangement.  This  place  really  seems 
quite  like  a  home  to  me,  though  not  my  own  dear 
home.  I  like  Mrs.  Willard,  I  love  the  girls,  and  I 
have  the  vanity  to  think  I  am  not  actually  dis 
agreeable  to  them." 

We  come  now  to  another  expression  (partly 
serious,  and  partly  bantering,  for  she  seems  to 
have  uniformly  respected  her  instructress)  of  her 
terrors  of  "  examination." 

"  We  are  all  engaged,  heart  and  hand,  preparing 
for  this  awful  examination.  Oh,  how  I  dread  it ! 
But  there  is  no  retreat.  I  must  stand  firm  to  my 
post,  or  experience  all  the  anger,  vengeance,  and 
punishment,  which  will,  in  case  of  delinquency  or 
flight,  be  exercised  with  the  most  unforgiving  acri 
mony.  We  are  in  such  cases  excommunicated, 
henceforth  and  for  ever,  under  the  awful  ban  of 
holy  Seminary  ;  and  the  evil  eye  of  false  report 


272  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

is  upon  us.  Oh  mamma,  I  do  though,  jesting 
apart,  dread  this  examination ;  but  nothing  short 
of  real  and  absolute  sickness  can  excuse  a  scholar 
in  the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Willard.  Even  that  will  not 
do  it  to  the  Trojan  world  around  us  ;  for,  if  a  young 
lady  is  ill  at  examination,  they  say  with  a  sneer, 
1  Oh,  she  is  ill  of  an  examination  fever  ! '  Thus 
you  see,  mamma,  we  have  no  mercy  either  from 
friends  or  foes.  We  must  '  do  or  die.'  Tell 
Morris  he  must  write  to  me.  Kiss  dear,  dear 
little  Margaret  for  me,  and  don't  let  her  forget 
poor  sister  Luly,  and  tell  all  who  inquire  for  me 
that  I  am  well,  but  in  awful  dread  of  a  great 
examination." 

The  following  extract  is  from  a  letter  to  her 
friends,  who  had  written  under  the  impression, 
that  all  letters  received  by  the  young  ladies  were, 
of  course,  read  by  some  one  of  the  officers  of  the 
institution. 

"  Lo !  just  as  I  was  descending  from  the  third 
rtory,  (for  you  must  know  I  hold  my  head  high,) 
your  letter  was  put  into  my  hands.  Poor  little 
wanderer !  I  really  felt  a  sisterly  compassion  for 
the  poor  little  folded  paper.  I  kissed  it  for  the 
sake  of  those  who  sent  it  forth  into  the  wide  world, 
and  put  it  into  my  bosom.  But  oh,  when  I  read 
it!  Now,  Anne,  I  will  tell  you  the  truth;  it  was 
cold,  perhaps  it  was  written  on  one  of  your  cold 
Canada  days,  or  perchance  it  lost  a  little  heat  on 


*  LUC RET I A     MARIA     DAVIDSON.  273 

the  way.  It  did  not  seem  to  come  from  the  very 
heart  of  hearts ;  it  looked  as  though  it  were  written 
'  to  a  young  lady  at  the  Troy  Seminary,'  not  to 

your  dear,  dear,  dear  sister  Luly.     Mr. has 

thus  far  been  a  father  to  me,  and  I  thank  him ;  but 
I  will  not  mock  my  feelings  by  attempting  to  say 
how  much  I  thank  him.  I  can  never  do  them 
justice.  What  inducement  can  he  have  to  do 
what  he  is  now  doing  ?  I  know  of  none.  Personal 
merit  on  my  part  is  out  of  the  question.  His 
heart  is  naturally  benevolent ;  he  wishes  to  do 
good  ;  he  saw  me,  and  by  some  unaccountable 
means  I  am  where  I  am.  The  Father  of  those, 
who  are  in  adversity  struggling  against  despair, 
undoubtedly  should  receive  my  heart-felt  thanks 
and  praises  as  the  original,  the  moving  cause  of  all 
these  blessings  ;  and  I  hope  they  are  as  mercifully 
received  as  they  are  sincerely  given." 

"  My  dear  mother !  oh  how  I  wish  I  could  lay 
my  head  upon  your  bosom  !  I  hope  you  do  not 
keep  my  letters,  for  I  certainly  have  burned  all 
yours,  *  and  I  stood  like  a  little  fool  and  wept 
over  their  ashes,  and,  when  I  saw  the  last  one 
gone,  I  felt  as  though  I  had  parted  with  my  last 
friend."  Then,  after  expressing  an  earnest  wish 
that  her  mother  would  destroy  her  letters,  she 
says,  "  They  have  no  connexion.  When  I 

*  This  was  in  consequence  of  a  positive  command 
from  her  mother. 

VOL.  VII.  18 


274  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

write,  every  thing  comes  crowding  upon  me  at 
once ;  my  pen  moves  too  slow  for  my  brain 
and  my  heart,  and  I  feel  vexed  at  myself,  and 
tumble  in  every  thing  together,  and  a  choice 
medley  you  have  of  it." 

"  I  attended  Mr.  Ball's  public  [assembly]  last 
night,  and  had  a  delightful  evening ;  but  now  for 
something  of  more  importance,  Ex-am-i-na-tion  ! 
I  had  just  begun  to  be  engaged,  heart  and  hand, 
preparing  for  it,  when,  by  some  means,  I  took  a 
violent  cold.  I  was  unable  to  raise  my  voice  above 
a  whisper,  and  coughed  incessantly.  On  the 
second  day  Mrs.  Willard  sent  for  Dr.  Robbins  ; 
he  said  I  must  be  bled,  and  take  an  emetic  ;  this 
was  sad  ;  but,  oh  mamma,  I  could  not  speak  nor 
breathe  without  pain."  There  are  farther  details 
of  pains,  remedies,  and  consequent  exhaustion  ; 
and  yet  this  fragile  and  precious  creature  was 
permitted  by  her  physician  and  friends,  kind  and 
watchful  friends  too,  to  proceed  in  her  suicidal 
preparations  for  examination  !  There  was  nothing 
uncommon  in  this  injudiciousness.  Such  viola 
tions  of  the  laws  of  our  physical  nature  are  every 
day  committed  by  persons,  in  other  respects,  the 
wisest  and  the  best,  and  our  poor  little  martyr 
may  not  have  suffered  in  vain,  if  her  experience 
awakens  attention  to  the  subject. 

In  the  letter,  from  which  we  have  quoted  above, 
and  which  is  filled  with  expressions  of  love  for  the 


LUCRETIA     AIAU1A     DAVIDSON.  275 

dear  ones  at  home,  she  thus  continues  ;  "  Tell 
Morris  I  will  answer  his  letter  in  full  next  quarter  ; 
but  now  I  fear  I  am  doing  wrong,  for  I  am  yet 
quite  feeble,  and  when  I  get  stronger  I  shall  be 
very  avaricious  of  my  time,  in  order  to  prepare  for 
the  coming  week.  We  must  study  morning,  noon, 
and  night.  /  shall  rise  between  two  and  four 
now  every  morning,  till  the  dreaded  day  is  past. 
I  rose  the  other  night  at  twelve,  but  was  ordered 
back  to  bed  again.  You  see,  mamma,  I  shall 
have  a  chance  to  become  an  early  riser  here." 
"  Had  I  not  written  you  that  I  was  coming 
home,  I  think  I  should  not  have  seen  you  this 
winter.  All  my  friends  think  I  had  better  remain 
here,  as  the  journey  will  be  long  and  cold  ;  but 
oh  !  there  is  that  at  the  journey's  end,  which  would 
tempt  me  through  the  wilds  of  Siberia,  —  father, 
mother,  brothers,  sister,  home.  Yes,  I  shall  come." 
We  insert  some  stanzas,  written  about  this  time, 
not  so  much  for  their  poetical  merit,  as  for  the 
playful  spirit  that  beams  through  them,  and  which 
seems  like  sunbeams  smiling  on  a  cataract. 

A    WEEK    BEFORE    EXAMINATION. 

"  ONE  has  a  headache,  one  a  cold, 
One  has  her  neck  in  flannel  rolled  ; 
Ask  the  complaint,  and  you  are  told, 
'Next  week  's  examination.' 
"One  frets  and  scolds,  and  laughs  and  cries, 
Another  hopes,  despairs,  and  sighs  ; 
Ask  but  the  cause,  and  each  replies, 
'  Next  week 's  examination.' 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

"  One  bans  her  books,  then  grasps  them  tight, 
And  studies  morning,  noon,  and  night, 
As  though  she  took  some  strange  delight 
In  these  examinations. 

"  The  books  are  marked,  defaced,  and  thumbed, 
The  brains  with  midnight  tasks  benumbed, 
Still  all  in  that  account  is  summed, 

'  Next  week 's  examination  ! '  ' 

In  a  letter  of  February  10th,  she  says,  "  The 
dreaded  work  of  examination  is  now  going  on,  ray 
dear  mother.  To-morrow  evening,  which  will  be 
the  last,  and  is  always  the  most  crowded,  is  the 
time  fixed  upon  for  my  entree  upon  the  field  of 
action.  Oh !  I  hope  I  shall  not  disgrace  myself. 
It  is  a  rule  here  to  reserve  the  best  classes  till  the 
last ;  so  I  suppose  I  may  take  it  as  a  compliment 
that  we  are  delayed." 

"  February  \%th.  The  examination  is  over. 

E E did  herself  and  her  native  village 

honor ;  but  as  for  your  poor  Luly,  she  acquitted 
herself,  I  trust,  decently.  Oh  !  mamma,  I  was  so 
frightened !  but,  although  my  face  glowed  and  my 
voice  trembled,  I  did  make  out  to  get  through, 
for  I  knew  my  lessons.  The  room  was  crowded 
almost  to  suffocation.  All  was  still,  the  fall  of  a 
pin  could  have  been  heard,  and  I  tremble  when  I 
think  of  it  even  now."  No  one  can  read  these 
melancholy  records  without  emotion. 

Her  visit  home  during  the  vacation  was  given 
up,  in  compliance  with  the  advice  of  her  guardian 


LUCRET1A    MARIA    DAVIDSON.          277 

"  I  wept  a  good  long  hour  or  so,"  she  says,  with 
tier  characteristic  gentle  acquiescence,  "  and  then 
made  up  my  mind  to  be«content." 

In  her  next  letter  she  relates  an  incident  very 
striking  in  her  uneventful  life.  It  occurred  in 
returning  to  Troy,  after  her  vacation,  passed 
happily  with  her  friends  in  the  vicinity.  •'  Uncle 
went  to  the  ferry  with  me,"  she  says,  "  where  we 
met  Mr.  Paris.  Uncle  placed  me  under  his  care 
and,  snugly  seated  by  his  side,  I  expected  a  very 
pleasant  ride,  with  a  very  pleasant  gentleman.  Ah 
was  pleasant,  except  that  we  expected  every 
instant  that  all  the  ice  in  the  Hudson  would  come 
drifting  against  us,  and  shut  in  scow,  stage,  and 
all,  or  sink  us  to  the  bottom,  which,  in  either  case, 
you  know,  mother,  would  not  have  been  quite  so 
agreeable.  We  had  just  pushed  from  the  shore, 
I  watching  the  ice  with  anxious  eyes,  when,  lo  ! 
the  two  leaders  made  a  tremendous  plunge,  and 
tumbled  headlong  into  the  river.  I  felt  the  car 
riage  following  fast  after  ;  the  other  two  horses 
pulled  back  with  all  their  power,  but  the  leaders 
were  dragging  them  down,  dashing  and  plunging, 
and  flouncing  in  the  water.  '  Mr.  Paris,  in  mercy 
let  us  get  out ! '  said  I.  But,  as  he  did  not  see  the 
horses,  he  felt  no  alarm.  The  moment  I  informed 
him  they  were  overboard,  he  opened  the  door  and 
cried,  ( Get  out  and  save  yourself,  if  possible  ;  1 
am  old  and  stiff,  but  I  will  follow  in  an  instant.' 


278  AMERICAN    BIOGRAPHY. 

'  Out  with  the  lady !  let  the  lady  out !  '  shouted 
several  voices  at  once  ;  '  the  other  horses  are  about 
to  plunge,  and  then  all  tvill  be  over.'  I  made  a 
lighter  spring  than  many  a  lady  does  in  a  cotillon, 
and  jumped  upon  a  cake  of  ice.  Mr.  Paris  fol 
lowed,  and  we  stood,  (I  trembling  like  a  leaf,) 
expecting  every  instant  that  the  next  plunge  of 
the  drowning  horses  would  detach  the  piece  of  ice 
upon  which  we  were  standing,  and  send  us  adiift ; 
but,  thank  Heaven,  after  working  for  ten  or  fifteen 
minutes,  by  dint  of  ropes  and  cutting  them  away 
from  the  other  horses,  they  dragged  the  poor 
creatures  out  more  dead  than  alive. 

"Mother,  don't  you  think  I  displayed  some 
courage  ?  I  jumped  into  the  stage  again,  and  shut 
the  door,  while  Mr.  Paris  remained  outside,  watch 
ing  the  movement  of  affairs.  We  at  length  reached 
here,  and  I  am  alive,  as  you  see,  to  tell  the  story 
of  my  woes." 

In  her  next  letter  she  details  a  conversation  with 
Mrs.  Willard,  full  of  kind  commendation  and  good 
counsel.  "  Mamma,"  she  concludes,  "  you  would 
be  justified  in  thinking  me  a  perfect  lump  of  vanity 
and  egotism ;  but  I  have  always  related  to  you 
every  thought,  every  action,  of  my  life.  I  have 
had  no  concealments  from  you,  and  I  have  stated 
these  matters  to  you  because  they  fill  me  with 
surprise.  Who  would  think  the  accomplished 
Mrs.  Willard  would  admire  my  poor  daubing,  or 


L.UCRETIA     MARIA     DAVIDSON.          279 

my  poor  any  thing  else  !  Oh,  dear  mamma,  I  am 
so  happy  now !  so  contented  !  Every  unusual 
movement  startles  me,  I  am  constantly  afraid  of 
something  to  mar  it."  * 

*  This  letter  manifests  strikingly,  what  all  her  letters 
indicate,  her  entire  unconsciousness  of  superiority,  her 
freedom  from  vanity,  or  any  approach  even  to  self- 
complacency.  I  insert  here  some  extracts  from  a  very 
interesting  letter  from  Mrs.  Willard,  with  which  I  was 
favored  too  late  to  incorporate  it  in  the  narrative. 

"  Though  you  have  doubtless  more  exact  descriptions 
of  Miss  Davidson,  than  I  shall  be  able,  after  the  lapse  of 
BO  many  years,  to  afford,  yet  I  will  give  you  truly  my 
impressions  concerning  her.  They  may  be  of  some 
value,  as  they  are  formed  with  the  advantage  of  extensive 
comparison  with  those  of  her  own  age,  known  under 
similar  circumstances. 

"  Miss  Davidson  was  scarcely  of  a  middling  height, 
delicately  formed,  with  regular  features,  a  fine  roseate 
bloom,  bright,  round  black  eyes,  and  dark  brown  hair, 
which  flowed  in  fine  curls  about  her  face.  She  had  all 
the  elements  of  personal  beauty ;  yet  she  was  so  exces 
sively  shy,  that  many  a  girl,  less  perfectly  endowed  in 
that  respect,  would  be  sooner  noticed  by  a  stranger. 
Her  fine  eyes,  especially  in  the  presence  of  those  with 
whom  she  was  not  familiar,  would  be  bent  downwards  ; 
and  there  was  a  certain  shrinking  of  her  person,  as  if 
she  would  fain  make  herself  so  little  as  not  to  be  seen. 

"From  the  same  excessive  timidity  she  would,  under 
the  same  circumstances,  shrink  her  mind  as  well  as  her 
person  :  not  conversing  fluently,  or  bringing  out  in  speech 
those  flashes  of  fancy,  and  that  delicacy  of  sentiment, 
which  marked  her  written  compositions.  Hence  her 


280  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

The  next  extract  is  from  a  letter,  the  emanation 
of  her  affectionate  spirit,  to  a  favorite  brother 
seven  years  old. 

"  Dear  L ,  I  am  obliged  to  you  for  your  two 

very  interesting  epistles,  and  much  doubt  whether 
I  could  spell  more  ingeniously  myself.  Really, 
I  have  some  idea  of  sending  them  to  the  printer's, 
to  be  struck  off  in  imitation  of  a  Chinese  puzzle. 
Your  questions  about  the  stars  I  have  been  cogi 
tating  upon  for  some  time  past,  and  am  of  the 

teachers  did  not  find  her  recitations  brilliant,  although 
well  satisfied  that  she  understood  her  author.  There 
was  also  a  degree  of  irregularity  in  her  performances, 
her  mind  operating  at  different  times  with  different  de 
grees  of  force.  I  recollect  that  she  was  a  fine  scholar 
in  Kames's '  Elements  of  Criticism.'  She  was  studying 
that  work  at  the  same  time  with  Paley's  '  Moral  Philos 
ophy.'  Her  companions  found  Paley  a  much  easier 
author  to  understand.  This  surprised  Miss  Davidson, 
who  found  Karnes  much  less  difficult,  because,  she  said, 
the  work  was  more  connected.  It  was  in  truth  more 
connected  with  her  internal  sensibilities.  The  'ideal 
presence '  of  Kames  was  more  congenial  to  her,  than 
the  '  general  consequences '  of  Paley.  She  loved  better 
to  dwell  in  the  high  regions  of  imagination  and  taste, 
than  in  the  lower  but  more  extensive  world  of  common 
things. 

"  However  it  might  be  with  her  recitations,  she  soon 
became  distinguished  in  school  by  her  compositions. 
My  sister,  Mrs.  Lincoln  (now  Mrs.  Phelps),  superintended 
the  class  in  that  branch  of  which  Miss  Davidson  was 
a  member.  I  well  remember  the  high  satisfaction  with 


LUCUETIA     MARIA     DAVID3ON.  281 

opinion,  that,  if  there  are  beings  inhabiting  those 
heavenly  regions,  they  must  be  content  to  feed, 
cameleon-like,  upon  air;  for,  even  were  we  disposed 
to  spare  them  a  portion  of  our  earth  sufficient  to 
plant  a  garden,  I  doubt  whether  the  attraction  of 
gravitation  would  not  be  too  strong  for  resistance, 
and  the  unwilling  clod  return  to  its  pale  brethren 
of  the  valley,  '  to  rest  in  ease  inglorious.'  So  far 
from  burning  your  precious  letters,  my  dear  little 
brother,  I  carefully  preserve  them  in  a  little  pocket- 
book,  and  when  I  feel  lonely  and  desolate,  and 

which  she  came  to  show  me  one  of  her  first  school 
productions,  the  subject,  of  which  was  'The  Discovery  of 
America.'  But  in  nothing,  not  even  in  poetry,  of  which 
some  of  her  finest  pieces  were  written  here,  did  she 
evince  the  superiority  of  her  genius,  more  than  in  draw 
ing  and  painting ;  and  I  am  convinced  that  she  wanted 
nothing  but  practice,  with  some  good  instruction,  to  have 
painted  in  a  style  as  elegant,  and  as  peculiarly  her  own, 
as  were  her  finest  literary  productions.  In  several  re 
spects  she  would  improve  upon  the  copies  given  her. 
She  not  only  seemed  to  seize  the  artist's  idea,  and  to 
know  exactly  what  effect  he  wished  to  produce  ;  but  she 
brought  out  from  her  own  imagination  more  picturesque 
forms,  and  sometimes  fine  touches  which  were  quite 
original.  I  speak  of  Miss  Davidson's  painting,  not  in 
comparison  with  those  of  the  practised  artist,  but  with 
those  of  other  school-girls,  and  of  the  many  who  have 
been  under  my  instruction. 

"  I  do  not  now  recollect  one,  of  whose  native  genius  I 
had  so  high  an   opinion ;  although  we  have  had  many 
who,  in  consequence  of  much  more  practice  and  instruc 
VII. Y 


282  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

think  of  my  dear  home,  I  turn  them  over  and  over 
again.  Do  write  often,  my  sweet  little  corre 
spondent,  and  believe  me,"  &c.  &c. 

Her  next  letter  to  her  mother,  written  in  March, 
was  in  a  melancholy  strain ;  but,  as  if  to  avert  her 
parent's  consequent  anxieties,  she  concludes, 

"  I  hope  you  will  feel  no  concern  for  my  health 
or  happiness  ;  for,  save  the  thought  of  my  deal 
mother  and  her  lonely  life,  and  the  idea  that  my 
dear  father  is  vainly  spending  his  time  and  talents 
in  fruitless  exertions  for  his  helpless  family,  save 

tion,  have  made  better  performances.  The  native  unedu 
cated  poet  brings  forth  the  inspirations  of  his  genius  in 
words.  These  he  uses  from  his  infancy,  and,  though  his 
stock  may  be  comparatively  small,  yet  of  this  stock  he 
may  perfectly  apprehend  the  meaning  and  use.  Not  so 
with  the  uninstructed  genius  in  painting.  However 
delightful  and  original  the  forms  with  which  his  imagina 
tion  may  be  stored,  he  must  learn  the  medium  of  lines 
and  shades  and  colors,  before  he  can  develope  them  to 
others.  Miss  Davidson,  I  am  persuaded,  had  but  to  do 
this,  to  become  eminent  in  painting. 

"  Lucretia's  moral  nature  was  exquisitely  touched  with 
all  the  finer  sensibilities.  She  loved  with  the  utmost 
tenderness  those  who  loved  her,  and  were  kind  to  her ; 
and  she  loved  those  who  were  good,  and  the  more,  if 
they  were  unfortunate.  Hence  a  fund  of  genuine  affec 
tion  arose  for  her,  in  the  hearts  of  her  companions,  and 
among  them  her  conversation  was  entertaining,  and  often 
witty.  To  amuse  them  she  sometimes  wrote,  as  well  as 
talked.  Her  '  Examination '  poem  was  thus  produced, 
which  was,  at  the  time,  much  quoted  and  copied  among 
the  young  ladies." 


LUCRET1A     MARIA     DAVIDSON.  283 

these  thoughts  (and  I  assure  you,  mamma,  they 
come  not  seldom),  I  am  happy.  Do,  my  dear 
mother,  try  to  be  cheerful,  and  have  good  courage." 

"I  have  been  to  the  Rensselaer  school,  to 
attend  the  philosophical  lectures.  They  are 
delivered  by  the  celebrated  Mr.  Eaton,  who  has 
several  students,  young  gentlemen.  I  hope  they 
will  not  lose  their  hearts  among  twenty  or  thirty 
pretty  girls.  For  my  part,  I  kept  my  eyes  fixed 
as  fast  as  might  be  upon  the  good  old  lecturer,  as 
I  am  of  the  opinion,  that  he  is  the  best  possible 
safeguard,  with  his  philosophy  and  his  apparatus  , 
for  you  know  philosophy  and  love  are  sworn 
enemies ! " 

Miss  Davidson  returned  to  Plattsburg  during 
the  spring  vacation.  Her  mother,  when  the  first 
rapture  of  reunion  was  over,  the  first  joy  at  finding 
her  child  unchanged  in  the  modesty  and  naturalness 
of  her  deportment,  and  fervor  of  her  affections, 
became  alarmed  at  the  indications  of  disease,  in 
the  extreme  fragility  of  her  person,  and  the  deep 
and  fluctuating  color  of  her  cheek.  Lucretia 
insisted,  and,  deceived  by  that  ever-deceiving 
disease,  believed  she  was  well.  She  was  gay  and 
full  of  hope,  and  could  hardly  be  persuaded  to 
submit  to  her  father's  medical  prescriptions. 
During  her  stay  at  home  she  wrote  a  great  deal. 
Like  the  bird,  which  is  to  pass  away  with  the 
summer,  she  seems  to  have  been  ever  on  th« 


284  AMERICAN    BIOGRAPHY. 

wing,  pouring  forth  the  spontaneous  melodies  oi 
her  soul.  The  following  are  a  few  stanzas  from 
a  piece  "  On  Spring." 

"  I  have  seen  the  fair  Spring,  I  have  heard  her  sweet 

song, 

As  she  passed  in  her  lightness  and  freshness  along; 
The  blue  wave  rolled  deeper,  the  moss-crest  looked 

bright, 
As  she  breathed  o'er  the  regions  of  darkness  and  night. 

u  I  have  seen  the  rose  bloom  on  the  youthful  cheek, 
And  the  dew  of  delight  'neath  the  bright  lash  break ; 
The  bounding  footstep,  scarce  pressing  the  earth, 
And  the  lip  which  speaks  of  a  soul  of  mirth. 

44 1  have  seen  the  Winter  with  brow  of  care, 
With  his  soulless  eye  and  his  snow-white  hair ; 
And  whate'er  his  footsteps  had  touched  was  cold, 
As  the  lifeless  stone  which  the  sculptors  mould. 


**  As  I  knelt  by  the  sepulchre,  dreary  and  lone, 
Lay  the  beautiful  form  in  its  temple  of  stone  ; 
I  looked  for  its  coming,  —  the  warm  wind  passed  by,—  • 
I  looked  for  its  coming  on  earth  and  on  high. 

*  The  young  leaves  gleamed  brightly  around  the  cold 

spot; 

1  looked  for  the  spirit,  yet  still  it  came  not. 
Shall  the  flower  of  the  valley  burst  forth  to  the  light, 
And  man  in  his  beauty  lie  buried  in  night  ? 

"  A  voice  on  the  waters,  a  voice  in  the  sky, 
A  voice  from  beneath,  and  a  voice  from  on  high, 
Proclaims  that  he  shall  not ;  that  Spring,  in  her  light, 
Shall  waken  the  spirit  from  darkness  and  night" 


LUCKETIA     MARIA     DAVIDSON.          285 

These  were  singular  speculations  for  a  beautiful 
girl  of  sixteen.  Were  there  not  spirits  ministering 
to  her  from  that  world  to  which  she  was  hastening  ? 

The  physician,  called  in  to  consult  with  her 
father,  was  of  opinion  that  a  change  of  air  and 
scene  would  probably  restore  her,  and  it  was 
decided  that  she  should  return  to  school!  Miss 
Gilbert's  boardjng-schoo  at  Albany  was  selected 
for  the  next  six  months.  There  are  few  more  of 
her  productions  of  any  sort,  and  they  seem  to  us 
to  have  the  sweetness  of  the  last  roses  of  summer. 
The  following  playful  passages  are  from  her  last 
letter  at  home  to  her  sister  ;n  Canada. 

"  The  boat  will  be  here  in  an  hour  or  two,  and 
I  am  all  ready  to  start.  Oh,  I  am  half  sick.  I 
have  taken  several  doses  of  something  quite  delec 
table  for  a  visiting-treat.  Now,"  she  concludes 
her  letter,  "  by  your  affection  for  me,  by  your  pity 
for  the  wanderer,  by  your  remembrance  of  the 
absent,  by  your  love  for  each  other,  and  by  all  that 
is  sacred  to  an  absent  friend,  I  charge  you,  write 
to  me,  and  write  often.  As  ye  hope  to  prosper, 
as  ye  hope  your  boy  to  prosper  (and  grow  fat ! ), 
as  ye  hope  for  my  gratitude  and  affection  now  and 
hereafter,  I  charge  you,  write.  If  ye  sinfully  neg 
lect  this  last  and  solemn  injunction  of  a  parting 
friend,  my  injured  spirit  will  visit  you  in  your  trans 
gressions.  It  shall  pierce  you  with  goose-quills, 
and  hurl  down  upon  your  recreant  heads  the  brim- 


286  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

ming  contents  of  the  neglected  inkstand.  This  is 
my  threat,  and  this  my  vengeance.  But  if,  on  the 
contrary,  ye  shall  see  fit  to  honor  me  with 
numerous  epistles,  which  shall  be  duly  answered 
know  ye,  that  I  will  live  and  love  you,  and  not 
only  you,  but  your  boy.  You  now  see  that  upon 
your  bearing  depends  the  fate  of  your  little  boy, 
'  to  be  beloved,  or  not  to  be  beloved  ! '  They 
have  come  !  Farewell,  a  long  farewell !  " 

She  proceeded  to  Albany,  and  in  a  letter  dated 
May  12th,  1825,  she  seems  delighted  with  her  re 
ception,  accommodations,  and  prospects  at  Miss 
Gilbert's  school.  She  has  yet  no  anxieties  about 
her  health,  and  enters  on  her  career  of  study  with 
her  customary  ardor.  With  the  most  delicate 
health  and  constant  occupation,  she  found  time 
always  to  write  long  letters  to  her  mother,  and 
the  little  children  at  home,  filled  with  fond  expres 
sions.  What  an  example  and  rebuke  to  the  idle 
school -girl,  who  finds  no  time  for  these  minor 
duties !  But  her  studies,  to  which  she  applied 
herself  beyond  her  strength,  from  the  conscientious 
fear  of  not  fulfilling  the  expectations  of  her  friends, 
were  exhausting  the  sources  of  life.  Her  letters 
teem  with  expressions  of  gratitude  to  her  benefac 
tor,  to  Miss  Gilbert,  and  to  all  the  friends  around 
her.  She  complains  of  debility  and  want  of 
appetite,  but  imputes  all  her  ailings  to  not  hearing 
regularly  from  home.  The  mails,  of  course,  were 


LUCRETIA     MAKIA     DAVIDSON.          281 

at  fault,  for  her  mother's  devotion  never  intermitted. 
The  following  expressions  will  show  that  her  sen 
sibility,  naturally  acute,  was  rendered  intense  by 
physical  disease  and  suffering. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  mother,  cannot  you  send  your 
Luly  one  little  line.  Not  one  word  in  two  weeks ! 
I  have  done  nothing  but  weep  all  day  long.  I 
feel  so  wretchedly  !  I  am  afraid  you  are  ill." 

"  I  am  very  wretched,  indeed  I  am.  My  dear 
mother,  am  I  never  to  hear  from  you  again  ?  I 
am  homesick.  I  know  I  am  foolish  ;  but  I  cannot 
help  it.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  am  half  sick.  I  ani 
so  weak,  so  languid,  I  cannot  eat.  I  am  ner 
vous,  I  know  I  am  ;  I  weep  the  most  of  the  time. 
I  have  blotted  the  paper  so,  that  I  cannot  write. 
I  cannot  study  much  longer,  if  I  do  not  hear  from 
you." 

Letters  from  home  renovated  her  for  a  few  days, 

and,  at  Mr.  's  request,  she  went  to  the 

theatre,  and  gave  herself  up,  with  all  the  freshness 
of  youthful  feeling,  to  the  spells  of  the  drama, 
and  raved  about  Hamlet  and  Ophelia  like  any 
other  school-girl. 

But  her  next  letter  recurs  to  her  malady,  and, 
for  the  first  time,  she  expresses  a  fear  that  her 
disease  is  beyond  the  reach  of  common  remedies. 
Her  mother  was  alarmed,  and  would  have  gone 
immediately  to  her,  but  she  was  herself  confined 
to  her  room  by  illness.  Her  father's  cooler  judg- 


288  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

ment  inferred  from  their  receiving  no  letters  from 
Lucretia:s  friends,  that  there  was  nothing  serious 
in  her  disease. 

The  next  letter  removed  every  doubt.  It  was 
scarcely  legible  ;  still  she  assures  her  mother  she  is 
better,  and  begs  she  will  not  risk  the  consequences 
of  a  long  journey.  But  neither  health  nor  life 
weighed  now  with  the  mother  against  seeing  her 
child.  She  set  off,  and,  by  appointment,  joined 

Mr. at  Whitehall.  They  proceeded  thence 

to  Albany,  where,  after  the  first  emotions  of  meet 
ing  were  over,  Lucretia  said,  "  Oh  mamma,  I 
thought  I  should  never  have  seen  you  again ! 
But,  now  I  have  you  here,  and  can  lay  my  aching 
head  upon  your  bosom,  I  shall  soon  be  better." 

For  a  few  days  the  balm  seemed  effectual ;  she 
was  better,  and  the  physicians  believed  she  would 
recover  ;  but  her  mother  was  no  longer  to  be  per 
suaded  from  her  conviction  of  the  fatal  nature  of 
the  disease,  and  arrangements  were  immediately 
made  to  convey  her  to  Plattsburg.  The  journey 
was  effected,  notwithstanding  it  was  during  the 
heats  of  July,  with  less  physical  suffering  than 
was  apprehended.  She  shrunk  painfully  from  the 
gaze  her  beauty  inevitably  attracted,  heightened 
as  it  was  by  that  disease  which  seems  to  delight 
to  deck  the  victim  for  its  triumph.  "  Her  joy 
upon  finding  herself  at  home,"  says  her  mother, 
"'  operated,  for  a  time,  like  magic."  The  sweet, 


LUCRETIA     MARIA     DAVIDSON. 

health-giving  influence  of  domestic  love,  the 
home  atmosphere,  seemed  to  suspend  the  pro 
gress  of  her  disease,  ana1  again  her  father, 
brothers,  and  friends  were  deluded ;  all,  but  the 
mother  and  the  sufferer.  She  looked,  with  pro 
phetic  eye,  calmly  to  the  end.  There  was  nothing 
to  disturb  her.  That  kingdom  that  cometh 
'  without  observation '  was  within  her,  and  she  was 
only  about  to  change  its  external  circumstances, 
about  to  put  off  the  harness  of  life  in  which  she 
had  been  so  patient  and  obedient.  To  the  last 
she  manifested  her  love  of  books.  A  trunk  filled 
with  them,  given  to  her  by  her  benefactor,  had 
not  been  unpacked.  She  requested  her  mother 
to  open  it  at  her  bed-side,  and,  as  each  book  was 
given  to  her,  she  turned  over  the  leaves,  kissed  it, 
and  desired  to  have  it  placed  on  a  table  at  the  foot 
of  her  bed.  There  they  remained  to  the  last, 
her  eye  often  fondly  resting  on  them. 

She  expressed  a  strong  desire  to  see  Mr. 

once  more,  and  a  fear  that,  though  he  had  been 
summoned,  he  might  not  arrive  in  time.  He  came, 
however,  to  receive  the  last  expressions  of  her 
gratitude,  and  to  hear  the  last  word  pronounced 
by  her  lips,  his  own  name. 

The  "  Fear  of  Madness "  was  written  by  her 
while  confined  to  her  bed,  and  was  the  last  piece 
she  ever  wrote.  As  it  constitutes  a  part  of  the 

VOL.  vii. — z  19 


290  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

history  of  her  disease,  it  is,  though  already  pub 
lished,  inserted  here. 

"THERE is  a  something  which  I  dread  ; 

It  is  a  dark,  and  fearful  thing  ; 
It  steals  along  with  withering  tread, 
Or  sweeps  on  wild  destruction's  wing. 

"  That  thought  comes  o'er  me  in  the  hour 
Of  grief,  of  sickness,  or  of  sadness ; 
T  is  not  the  dread  of  death  ;  't  is  more,  — 
It  is  the  dread  of  madness. 

"Oh!  may  these  throbbing  pulses  pause, 

Forgetful  of  their  feverish  course ; 
May  this  hot  brain,  which,  burning,  glows 
With  all  a  fiery  whirlpool's  force, 

"  Be  cold,  and  motionless,  and  still, 

A  tenant  of  its  lowly  bed  ; 
But  let  not  dark  delirium  steal "  — 
[Unfinished.] 

That  the  records  of  the  last  scenes  of  Lucretia 
Davidson's  life  are  scanty,  is  not  surprising.  The 
materials  for  this  memoir,  it  must  be  remembered, 
were  furnished  by  her  mother.  A  victim  stretched 
on  the  rack  cannot  keep  records.  She  says,  in 
general  terms,  "  Lucretia  frequently  spoke  to  me 
of  her  approaching  dissolution,  with  perfect  calm 
ness,  and  as  an  event  that  must  soon  take  place. 
In  a  conversation  with  Mr.  Townsend,  held  at 
intervals,  as  her  strength  would  permit,  she  ex 
pressed  the  same  sentiments  she  expressed  to 


LUCRETIA     MARIA     DAVIDSON.         291 

me  before  she  grew  so  weak.  She  declared  her 
firm  faith  in  the  Christian  religion,  her  dependence 
on  the  divine  promises,  which  she  said  had  con 
soled  and  sustained  her  during  her  illness.  She 
said  her  hopes  of  salvation  were  grounded  on  the 
merits  of  her  Savior,  and  that  death,  which  had 
once  looked  so  dreadful  to  her,  was  now  divested 
of  all  its  terrors." 

Welcome,  indeed,  should  that  messenger  have 
been,  that  opened  the  gates  of  knowledge,  and 
blissful  immortality,  to  such  a  spirit ! 

During  Miss  Davidson's  residence  in  Albany, 
which  was  less  than  three  months,  she  wrote 
several  miscellaneous  pieces,  and  began  a  long 
poem,  divided  into  cantos,  and  entitled  "  Mari- 
torne,  or  the  Pirate  of  Mexico."  This  she 
deemed  better  than  any  thing  she  had  previously 
produced.  The  amount  of  her  compositions,  con 
sidering  the  shortness  and  multifarious  occupations 
of  a  life  of  less  than  seventeen  years,  is  sur 
prising.*  We  copy  the  subjoined  paragraph  from 
the  biographical  sketch  prefixed  to  "  Amir  Khan." 
"  Her  poetical  writings,  which  have  been  col 
lected,  amount  in  all  to  two  hundred  and  seventy- 
eight  pieces,  of  various  lengths.  When  it  is  con 
sidered  that  there  are  among  these  at  least  five 
regular  poems  of  several  cantos  each,  some  esti- 

*  She  died  on  the  27th  of  August,  1825,  just  a  month 
before  her  seventeenth  birth-day. 


AMERICAN     BlOGKAPHf. 

mate  may  be  formed  of  her  poetical  labors. 
Besides  these  were  twenty-four  school  exercises, 
three  unfinished  romances,  a  complete  tragedy, 
written  at  thirteen  years  of  age,  and  about  forty 
letters,  in  a  few  months,  to  her  mother  alone." 
This  statement  does  not  comprise  the  large  pro 
portion  (at  least  one  third  of  the  whole)  which 
she  destroyed. 

The  genius  of  Lucretia  Davidson  has  had  the 
meed  of  far  more  authoritative  praise  than  ours. 
The  following  tribute  is  from  the  London  "  Quar 
terly  Review "  ;  a  source  whence  praise  of  Ameri 
can  productions  is  as  rare  as  springs  in  the  desert. 
The  notice  is  by  Mr.  Southey,  and  is  written  with 
the  earnest  feeling,  that  characterizes  that  author, 
as  generous  as  he  is  discriminating.  "  In  these 
poems "  [Amir  Khan,  &c.]  "  there  is  enough  of 
originality,  enough  of  aspiration,  enough  of  con 
scious  energy,  enough  of  growing  power,  to  warrant 
any  expectations,  however  sanguine,  which  the 
patron,  and  the  friends,  and  parents  of  the  deceased 
could  have  formed." 

But,  prodigious  as  the  genius  of  this  young 
creature  was,  still  marvellous  after  all  the  abate 
ments  that  may  be  made  for  precociousness  and 
morbid  developement,  there  is  something  yet  more 
captivating  in  her  moral  loveliness.  Her  modesty 
was  not  the  infusion  of  another  mind,  not  the 
result  of  cultivation,  not  the  effect  of  good  taste  ; 


293 

nor  was  it  a  veil,  cautiously  assumed  and  grace 
fully  worn  ;  but  an  innate  quality,  that  made  her 
shrink  from  incense,  even  though  the  censer  were 
sanctified  by  love.  Her  mind  was  like  the  ex 
quisite  mirror,  that  cannot  be  stained  by  human 
breath. 

Few  may  have  been  gifted  with  her  genius, 
but  all  can  imitate  her  virtues.  There  is  a  uni 
versality  in  the  holy  sense  of  duty,  that  regu 
lated  her  life.  Few  young  ladies  will  be  called  on 
to  renounce  the  Muses  for  domestic  service  ;  but 
many  may  imitate  Lucretia  Davidson's  meek  self- 
sacrifice,  by  relinquishing  some  favorite  pursuit, 
some  darling  object,  for  the  sake  of  an  humble 
and  unpraised  duty;  and,  if  few  can  attain  her 
excellence,  all  may  imitate  her  in  her  gentleness, 
humility,  industry,  and  fidelity  to  her  domestic 
affections.  We  may  apply  to  her  the  beautiful 
lines,  in  which  she  describes  one  of  those 

"forms,  that,  wove  in  fancy's  loom, 
Float  in  light  visions  round  the  poet's  head." 

''She  was  a  being  formed  to  love  and  bless, 
With  lavish  nature's  richest  loveliness ; 
Such  I  have  often  seen  in  Fancy's  eye, 
Beings  too  bright  for  dull  mortality. 
I  've  seen  them  in  the  visions  of  the  night, 
I  've  faintly  seen  them  when  enough  of  light 
And  dim  distinctness  gave  them  to  my  gaze, 
As  forms  of  other  worlds,  or  brighter  days." 

This  memoir  may  be  fitly  concluded  by  the 
following  "  Tribute  to  the  Memory  of  my  Sister," 


iJ94  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

by  Margaret  Davidson,  who  was  but  two  years 
old  at  the  time  of  Lucretia's  death,  and  whom 
she  so  often  mentions  with  peculiar  fondness. 
The  lines  were  written  at  the  age  of  eleven. 
May  we  be  allowed  to  say,  that  the  mantle  of  the 
elder  sister  has  fallen  on  the  younger,  and  that 
she  seems  to  be  a  second  impersonation  of  her 
spirit  ? 

"  Though  thy  freshness  and  beauty  are  laid  in  the  tomb, 
Like  the  floweret  which  drops  in  its  verdure  and  bloom ; 
Though  the  halls  of  thy  childhood  now  mourn  thee  in 

vain, 

And  thy  strains  shall  ne'er  waken  their  echoes  again, 
Still  o'er  the  fond  memory  they  silently  glide, 
Still,  still  thou  art  ours,  and  America's  pride. 
Sing  on,  thou  pure  seraph,  with  harmony  crowned, 

And  pour  the  full  tide  of  thy  music  along, 
O'er  the  broad  arch  of  Heaven  the  sweet  note  shall  re 
sound, 

And  a  bright  choir  of  angels  shall  echo  the  song. 
The  pure  elevation  which  beamed  from  thine  eye, 
As  it  turned  to  its  home  in  yon  fair  azure  sky, 
Told  of  something  unearthly ;  it  shone  with  the  light 
Of  pure  inspiration  and  holy  delight. 
Round  the  rose  that  is  withered  a  fragrance  remains, 
O'er  beauty  in  ruins  the  mind  proudly  reigns. 
Thy  lyre  has  resounded  o'er  ocean's  broad  wave 
And  the  tear  of  deep  anguish  been  shed  o'er  thy  grave 
But  thy  spirit  has  mounted  to  mansions  on  high, 
To  the  throne  of  its  God,  where  it  never  can  die." 


No 


v 


Q 

\ 


LIFE 


DAVID    RITTENHOUSE; 


JAMES    RENWICK,  LL.  D. 


DAVID    R1TTENHOUSE 


CHAPTER  I. 

Introduction. 

THE  annals  of  our  country  are  illustrated  by 
but  few  names  of  scientific  eminence.  It  has 
been  well  remarked,  that  the  energies  of  our 
people  have  been  directed  by  circumstances  to 
objects  demanding  not  less  powers  of  mind,  than 
those  required  to  master  the  highest  subjects  in 
abstract  knowledge.  To  plan  constitutions  and 
enact  laws  for  a  mighty  nation,  placed  under  new 
circumstances,  and  to  bring,  by  novel  applications 
of  science,  the  most  distant  parts  of  an  extensive 
continent  into  close  and  frequent  intercourse,  are 
objects  as  worthy  of  a  master-spirit,  as  the  in 
vestigation  of  the  most  subtile  mathematical 
problems,  or  the  research  of  the  most  recondite 
physical  questions.  Yet,  as  the  paucity  of  our 
men  of  science  has  been  urged  upon  us  as  a  re 
proach,  it  behoves  us  to  set  a  due  value  upon 
those  whom  our  country  has  produced,  and  who, 
while  their  cotemporaries  have  been  engaged  in 


298  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

reclaiming  the  wilderness,  in  bringing  to  light  the 
hidden  or  dormant  riches  of  our  soil,  in  opening 
artificial,  and  improving  natural  channels  of  trade, 
and  in  extending  our  commerce  to  the  most 
distant  regions  of  the  globe,  have  patiently  de 
voted  themselves  to  the  less  lucrative  pursuit  of 
philosophic  study.  Among  these  the  subject  of 
the  present  memoir  holds  no  mean  place.  Were 
we  called  upon  to  assign  him  a  rank  among  the 
philosophers  whom  America  has  produced,  we 
should  place  him,  in  point  of  scientific  merit,  as 
second  to  Franklin  alone.  If  he  wanted  the 
originality  and  happy  talent  for  discovery,  pos 
sessed  by  that  highly  gifted  man,  he  has  the 
advantage  of  having  applied  himself  with  success 
to  a  more  elevated  department  of  physical  science. 
Astronomy,  to  use  the  words  of  Davy,  is  the 
most  ancient,  as  it  is  now  the  most  perfect,  of  the 
sciences.  Connected  with  the  earliest  events  even 
of  savage  life,  the  phenomena  of  the  heavenly 
bodies  must  have  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
progenitors  of  our  species,  from  the  time  they 
were  doomed  to  eat  their  bread  in  the  sweat  of 
their  brow.  The  waning  and  increase  of  the  moon, 
and  the  connexion  of  her  phases  with  the  vary 
ing  length  of  the  natural  day,  have  been  studied 
and  transmitted  from  father  to  son,  among  even 
the  rudest  tribes  of  hunters ;  and  the  wildest  In 
dians  of  our  own  country  still  note  them  for  similar 


DAVID     RITTENHOUSE.  299 

purposes.  At  no  long  interval  after  the  deluge 
of  Noah,  the  Egyptian  husbandmen,  who  first  fur 
rowed  the  soil,  wherein  to  cast  the  seeds  of  the 
cereal  gramina,  remarked  the  coincidence  of  the 
re-appearance  of  Sirius  in  the  eastern  horizon, 
with  the  return  of  the  vivifying  waters  of  the  in 
undation  ;  and  from  that  time  to  the  present, 
man  has  not  forgotten  the  use  of  the  heavenly 
bodies,  as  signs  and  as  seasons.  From  the  hands 
of  the  hunter  and  the  husbandman,  astronomy, 
still  in  a  rude  state,  passed  into  those  of  a  priest 
hood,  which,  monopolizing  the  traditions  of  its 
more  obvious  facts,  found  in  them  the  surest  sup 
port  of  its  influence,  and  turned  to  the  purposes 
of  superstition,  what  had  been  preserved  for 
general  use.  Twenty  centuries  have  however 
elapsed  since  this  science  made  its  escape  from 
the  dark  cells  of  the  pagan  temple,  and  took  up 
its  abode  in  the  observatory  of  Hipparchus. 
From  that  time  to  the  present,  in  the  hands  of 
the  Greek,  the  Arab,  the  Tartar,  and  finally  in 
those  of  the  nations  of  modern  Europe,  astron 
omy  has  made  almost  annual  progress,  until  it 
has  become,  not  only  the  highest  triumph  of 
human  genius,  but  the  surest  test  of  civilization 
It  is  only  by  advancing  a  knowledge  of  this 
science,  that  the  men  of  future  generations  can 
hope  to  place  their  names  by  the  side  of  those  of 
a  Ptolemy,  a  Galileo,  a  Kepler,  a  Newton,  or  a 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

La  Place ;  and  it  may  be  almost  predicted  of  a 
country  in  which  astronomy  is  cultivated,  that  it 
?s  polished  and  enlightened ;  while  we  may  as 
surely  infer,  that,  when  it  is  neglected,  the  arts  of 
civilized  life  have  either  never  made  their  appear 
ance,  or  are  upon  the  decline. 

In  submitting  to  this  test  the  claims  of  our 
country  to  be  considered  as  enlightened,  we  might 
shrink  from  the  task  of  comparison,  or  be  on  the 
point  of  admitting  her  inferiority  to  several  of  the 
nations  of  Europe,  were  we  not  aware  that  we 
even  now  number  among  our  citizens  a  name 
inferior  to  none  in  the  pursuit  of  celestial  mechan 
ics,  and  may  count  in  the  generation,  which  has 
just  descended  to  the  tomb,  the  equal,  in  skill  and 
tact  of  observation,  of  Lalande  and  Maskelyne 
in  the  person  of  the  subject  of  this  memoir. 

The  science  of  astronomy,  cultivated  as  it  has 
been  for  so  many  centuries,  and  adorned  by 
genius  and  talents  of  the  highest  order,  has  ac 
cumulated  to  a  vast  amount.  It  has  therefore 
demanded  a  division  of  labor,  in  order  to  admit 
of  its  being  pursued  in  any  one  direction  with 
complete  success.  When  astronomy  first  became 
a  science,  a  few  verses  might  comprise  all  the 
treasured  learning  of  former  observers,  and  could 
be  easily  committed  to  memory  ;  further  progress 
could  be  insured  by  noting  phenomena,  visible 
to  the  naked  eye,  or  measuring  the  length  of  the 


DAVID     KITTEN  HOUSE.  301 

shadow  of  a  gnomon ;  calculation  was  hardly 
known  as  an  aid,  and  instruments  had  not  been 
invented.  At  the  present  day,  the  whole  life 
may  be  devoted  to  the  study  of  physical  astron 
omy  alone,  in  which  no  other  instrument  is  to 
be  employed  than  the  calculus,  and  no  theory 
required  but  the  simple  laws  to  which  Newton 
reduced  the  causes  of  all  the  celestial  motions. 
Another  may  find  sufficient  occupation  in  calcu 
lating  in  numbers  the  formulae  obtained  by  the 
physical  astronomer,  and  arranging  his  results  in 
tables,  by  which  future  phenomena  may  be  pre 
dicted.  A  third  may  found  upon  these  tables  the 
ephemerides  by  which  the  practical  astronomer 
is  to  be  guided  in  his  observations.  The  prac 
tical  astronomer,  on  the  other  hand,  need  devote 
himself  only  to  watch  for  the  phenomena  of  the 
heavenly  bodies,  as  they  are  successively  pre 
sented  to  him  in  their  varying  motions,  and  thus 
furnish  to  the  physical  astronomer  the  practical 
test  of  his  theories,  and  to  calculators  the  numer 
ical  values  of  the  quantities  involved  in  the  for 
mulae.  Observation,  however,  would  be  beyond 
measure  laborious,  were  not  its  proper  times 
predicted  in  the  calculated  tables,  and  is  now  of 
no  account,  unless  performed  by  the  most  per 
fect  instruments,  and  aided  by  the  most  accurate 
arithmetic. 

The  construction  of  the  instruments,  which  the 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

practical  astronomer  demands,  forms  an  elevated 
branch  of  the  mechanic  arts,  and  requires  no 
little  proficiency  in  the  physical  sciences.  The 
artists,  who  have  improved  the  fabrication  of  the 
timekeeper,  and  increased  the  accuracy  of  cir 
cular  graduation,  have  been  proudly  ranked  as 
colleagues  by  the  most  learned  societies ;  and 
their  names  will  be  intimately  associated  with 
the  discoveries,  for  which  their  handiwork  has 
furnished  the  indispensable  materials. 

In  considering  the  character  of  Rittenhouse, 
we  shall  find  him  uniting  in  himself  more  of 
these  varied  merits  than  any  person  who  has  lived 
since  a  division  in  the  labors  of  astronomy  be 
came  necessary.  If  he  made  no  attempt  to 
extend  the  domain  of  celestial  mechanics,  he 
nevertheless  mastered,  under  most  unfavorable 
circumstances,  all  that  Newton  had  taught ;  he 
calculated  with  success  the  difficult  problem  of 
the  path  of  various  comets ;  exhibited  unsur 
passed  precision  and  accuracy  in  many  important 
observations  ;  and  finally  constructed  the  greater 
part  of  his  instruments  with  his  own  hands. 
Other  claims  we  might  present  for  him,  not  only 
to  the  admiration,  but  to  the  gratitude  of  his 
countrymen.  We  shall  not,  however,  anticipate 
what  may  be  best  gathered  from  the  records  of 
his  useful  and  laborious  life. 


OAVID     RITT&WHOUSE.  303 

CHAPTER  II. 

His  Birth  and  Parentage. 

THE  family,  whence  Rittenhouse  descended, 
was  originally  from  that  part  of  the  Duchy  of 
Guelders,  which  had  become  a  province  of  the 
United  Netherlands.  This  republic  of  confede 
rated  States  had,  as  is  well  known,  attempted,  at 
one  time,  to  occupy  one  of  the  fairest  portions 
of  this  continent,  and  had  established  settlements, 
scattered  at  distances,  over  a  wide  extent  of 
country.  The  advantageous  position  of  New 
York  had  attracted  the  attention  of  its  traders 
and  soldiers,  and  had  become  the  site  of  a  strong 
fortress,  around  which  a  little  city  had  collected, 
under  the  name^  of  Amsterdam.  Proceeding 
hence,  posts  had  been  established,  on  the  one 
hand,  on  the  Connecticut  River,  while,  on  the 
other,  the  western  shore  of  the  Delaware  was 
occupied,  after  a  contest  with  the  Swedes.  Both 
banks  of  the  Hudson  were  in  full  possession  of 
this  colony,  not  only  by  military  stations,  but  by 
flourishing  agricultural  settlements.  The  Dutch 
province  of  the  New  Netherlands,  therefore,  in 
cluded,  at  one  time,  not  only  the  ancient  part  of 
the  present  State  of  New  York,  but  the  whole  of 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

New  Jersey,  and  Delaware,  the  eastern  part  of 
Pennsylvania,  and  the  western  part  of  Connec 
ticut.  This  wide  extent  they  were  not  permitted 
to  occupy  without  remonstrance  on  the  part  of 
the  settlers  of  English  blood.  Indeed  the  whole 
of  it  fell  within  the  chartered  limits  of  companies 
founded  by  the  government  of  England.  That 
government,  however,  did  not  interfere  directly 
with  the  progress  of  the  Dutch,  until  the  reign 
of  the  second  Charles ;  nor  were  its  colonies  in  a 
condition  to  assert  their  claims  by  an  appeal  to 
arms.  It  was  not,  therefore,  until  1662  that  an 
expedition  was  fitted  out  from  England,  for  the 
conquest  of  the  New  Netherlands.  This  was 
successful,  and  the  province  was  ceded  by  the 
Dutch,  at  the  peace  of  the  Breda.  That  peace 
was  but  of  short  duration ;  and  the  government  of 
Holland,  unwilling  to  part  wholly  with  so  valuable 
a  colony,  took  advantage  of  ttye  ensuing  war  to 
repossess  themselves  of  it.  It  did  not,  however, 
long  remain  in  their  hands ;  for  the  final  cession 
of  the  New  Netherlands  to  England  was  insisted 
upon  at  the  peace  of  Westminster,  in  1664, 
before  two  years  from  its  recovery  had  elapsed. 

We  have  been  thus  particular,  because  it 
appears  that  the  ancestor  of  Rittenhouse  emi 
grated  to  the  New  Netherlands  during  the  last- 
mentioned  period,  while  the  colony  was  re- 
occupied  by  the  Dutch  arms.  This  ancestor 


DAVID     RITTENHOUSE.  305 

waa  the  great-grandfather  of  the  subject  of  this 
memoir,  and  he  was  accompanied,  or  speedily 
followed,  by  his  two  sons.  One  of  these,  by 
name  Nicholas,  married  in  New  York.  The 
father,  accompanied  by  this  son,  emigrated  from 
New  York  to  Germantown  in  1690.  Here  they 
established  the  first  manufactory  of  paper  ever 
erected  in  America.  It  would  appear,  that  this 
was  an  art,  in  which  the  elder  Rittenhouse,  or 
Rittinghousen,  as  the  name  seems  to  have  been 
originally  spelled,  had  been  engaged  in  his  native 
country ;  and  it  is  said  that  his  relatives  con 
tinued  to  pursue  this  business  at  Arnheim,  in 
Guelderland,  after  his  departure  for  America. 
The  enterprise^  however,  marks  a  union  of  cap 
ital,  intelligence,  and  enterprise,  at  that  time  rare 
in  the  colonies. 

Nicholas  pursued  the  manufacture  of  paper  af 
ter  the  death  of  his  father,  and  brought  up  to  it 
his  youngest  son  Matthias,  who  succeeded  to  the 
possession  of  the  mill,  and  prosecuted  the  busi 
ness  after  the  decease  of  his  parent. 

Here  we  find  an  illustration  of  the  mode  of 
inheritance  originally  practised  among  the  settlers 
who  derived  their  origin  from  Holland,  and  which 
is  not  wholly  obliterated  at  the  present  day. 
The  father  of  a  family  provided,  to  the  best  ol 
his  ability,  for  his  elder  sons,  as  they  successively 
Attained  to  man's  estate.  His  youngest  son  re- 

VOL.    VII. — AA       20 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

mained  with  him,  even  if  married,  until  his  death, 
when  he  succeeded  to  the  occupation  of  the 
original  homestead.  This  custom  appears  better 
founded  in  natural  reason  than  the  law  of  primo 
geniture,  and  even  more  just  than  the  existing 
laws  which  regulate  the  descent  of  property. 
By  it,  a  prop  is  secured  for  the  declining  years 
of  parents,  in  the  care  of  an  affectionate  son, 
who  finds  not  only  his  duty,  but  his  own  personal 
interest,  in  the  care  which  he  takes  of  the  prop 
erty  of  his  father. 

It  is  a  remarkable  fact,  which  we  must  not  pass 
over,  that  the  introduction  of  the  manufacture  of 
paper  into  America  by  the  Rittenhouses,  was 
about  as  early  as  the  time  at  which  it  took  root 
in  Great  Britain. 

Matthias  Rittenhouse,  while  still  resident  at 
Germantown,  and  occupied  in  the  manufacture 
of  paper,  took  to  wife  Elizabeth  Williams,  the 
daughter  of  a  native  of  Wales.  This  marriage 
took  place  in  1727.  Shortly  afterwards,  he  ap 
pears  to  have  discovered,  that  agriculture  offered 
greater  chances  of  providing  for  a  growing  family, 
than  the  manufacture  in  which  he  was  engaged ; 
for  we  find  him,  in  1730,  retiring  from  the  latter 
business.  With  the  funds  derived  from  the  sale 
of  his  property  at  Germantown,  he  proceeded, 
in  that  year,  to  the  township  of  Norriton,  where 
he  commenced  a  settlement  upon  a  small  farm. 


DAVID     R1TTENHOUSE.  307 

of  which  his  means  were  sufficient  to  enable  him 
to  become  the  owner.  His  residence,  however, 
does  not  appear  to  have  been  permanently  fixed 
at  Norriton,  until  after  1732;  for  his  three  elder 
children  were  born  at  Germantown.  Among 
these  was  David,  the  subject  of  this  memoir, 
who,  although  not  the  first  born,  was  the  eldest 
child  who  survived  the  age  of  infancy. 

One  of  the  former  biographers  of  Ritten 
house  has  endeavoured  to  account  for  his  abil 
ities,  by  supposing  that  he  derived  them  by 
descent  from  the  mother's  side.  In  this  he  seems 
to  have  adopted  the  popular  opinion,  which  de 
nies  to  persons  of  pure  Dutch  descent  any  claim 
to  talents  of  the  higher  order.  This  opinion  is, 
however,  no  more  than  a  prejudice,  which  any 
inquiry  into  the  annals  of  our  country  might 
have  dissipated.  It  may  indeed  be  admitted, 
that  the  settlers  of  the  New  Netherlands  made  a 
less  careful  and  less  extensive  provision  for  the 
education  of  their  children,  than  was  done  by 
the  descendants  of  the  Pilgrims  ;  and  to  this  want 
of  foresight  we  may  fairly  ascribe  any  difference 
in  the  intelligence  of  the  several  masses  of 
people.  But,  in  comparing  those  classes  whose 
wealth  gave  them  the  power  of  commanding  the 
higher  kind  of  education,  Holland  has  no  rea 
son  to  blush  for  her  descendants ;  and  the  number 
of  intelligent  and  learned  individuals  of  Dutch 


308  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

extraction  i?  only  small,  because  the  population 
whence  the)  are  derived  is  less  numerous,  than 
that  with  which  it  is  thus  invidiously  compared. 
The  United  Netherlands  were  distinguished,  at 
the  time  when  the  ancestors  of  Rittenhouse 
emigrated,  for  high  attainments  in  science  and 
the  useful  arts.  The  very  business  in  which 
they  had  been  engaged  in  the  place  of  their 
nativity,  and  which  they  so  speedily  resumed  in 
America,  may  almost  serve  as  a  proof,  that  they 
were  devoid  neither  of  education  nor  ability. 
Still,  talent  is  not  hereditary  in  families ;  and  it 
often  happens  that  we  are  wholly  at  a  loss  to  ac 
count,  by  any  circumstances  of  parentage,  for  the 
peculiar  genius  of  individuals.  So  far  from  there 
being  a  transmission  of  abilities  by  natural  de 
scent,  nothing  is  rarer  than  to  find  successive 
generations  of  the  same  family  equally  distin 
guished  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  it  often  happens 
that  a  single  individual  may  shed  lustre  upon  a 
name,  which  may  be  almost  disgraced  by  his 
nearest  relations. 

The  mother  of  Rittenhouse  is  described  as  a 
woman  of  uncommonly  vigorous  and  compre 
hensive  mind,  but  as  almost  wholly  deficient  in 
education.  If,  therefore,  we  are  to  seek  in  his 
genealogy  for  the  cause  of  his  distinction,  it  is 
rather  to  be  found  in  the  fact  of  his  deriving  his 
descent  from  two  races  of  distant  origin.  The 


DAVID     RITTENHOUSE.  309 

effect  of  such  a  mixture  of  races  is  well  illus 
trated  in  the  character  of  the  people  of  Great 
Britain  ;  and  the  same  cause  seems  to  be  at  work 
in  producing  that  peculiar  activity  of  mind  which 
marks  our  own  countrymen,  into  whose  veins 
blood  derived  from  almost  every  nation  of  any 
intellectual  eminence  in  the  old  world  has  been 
successively  transfused.  From  such  parents,  and 
of  such  lineage,  DAVID  RITTENHOUSE  derived  his 
birth,  which  took  place  at  Germantown,  Penn 
sylvania,  on  the  8th  of  April,  1732. 


310  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 


CHAPTER  III. 

His  Education.  —  Early  Indications  of  Mechan 
ical  Genius.  —  Remarkable  Progress  in  Math 
ematical  Learning. 

o 

No  records  or  traditions  remain  of  the  manner 
in  which  Rittenhouse  obtained  the  elements  of 
learning.  His  education,  however,  could  not  have 
been  neglected;  and  what  public  instruction,  in 
the  imperfect  form  it  must  have  borne  in  a 
remote  district  of  a  newly  settled  country,  de 
nied,  seems  to  have  been  supplied  by  the  tuition 
of  a  maternal  uncle.  This  near  relation,  although 
exercising  the  humble  trade  of  a  joiner,  appears 
to  have  been  gifted  with  a  taste  and  capacity  for 
scientific  pursuits.  Circumstances  made  him  an 
inmate  in  the  family  of  the  elder  Rittenhouse, 
and  in  this  abode  he  died.  His  books  and  papers 
passed  thereupon  into  the  custody  of  his  nephew 
David,  along  with  his  tools  of  trade.  Among  his 
books  were  found  elementary  treatises  on  mathe 
matics  and  astronomy  ;  and  in  addition  he  left 
numerous  manuscripts,  in  which  were  contained 
models  of  calculation  and  investigation. 

The  death  of  his  uncle  took  place  when  Rit 
tenhouse  had  attained  his  twelfth  year.  Whethei 


DAVID     RiTTENHOUS  E.  311 

in  continuation  of  former  studies,  or  in  conse 
quence  of  the  interest  excited  by  the  treasures 
which  came  by  this  event  into  his  possession,  he 
seems  from  that  time  to  have  devoted  his  whole 
mind,  and  every  opportunity  of  leisure,  to  the 
pursuit  of  the  studies  in  which  he  afterwards 
became  distinguished.  The  son  of  a  farmer,  in 
comfortable,  but  by  no  means  affluent  circum 
stances,  it  became  imperative,  that  he  should 
share  in  the  labors  of  agriculture ;  and  this  was 
the  more  necessary,  as  his  father  entertained  a 
desire  that  he  should  pursue  the  occupation  of  a 
farmer.  Even  when  engaged  in  agricultural 
labors,  however,  the  bent  of  his  genius  was  not 
to  be  restrained  ;  and  it  was  recollected  by  his 
brother,  that  in  his  fourteenth  year  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  covering  the  fences  of  the  farm,  and  the 
implements  of  husbandry,  with  numerical  figures 
and  diagrams,  unintelligible  to  his  rustic  asso 
ciates.  , 

Mere  abstract  investigations  did  not,  however, 
engross  his  whole  attention.  The  tool-chest  of 
his  uncle  supplied  him  with  the  instruments  for 
practice  in  the  mechanic  arts ;  and  he  appears  to 
have  applied  his  severer  studies  to  practical  pur 
poses,  at  every  possible  opportunity.  Thus  it 
is  recorded  of  him,  that,  as  early  as  in  his  eighth 
year,  he  had  made  a  model  of  a  water-mill,  and, 
at  no  long  period  after  the  death  of  his  uncle,  he 


312  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHy. 

undertook  and  succeeded  in  the  construction  of 
a  clock.  The  material  of  both  of  these  early 
evidences  of  his  ingenuity  and  knowledge  was 
wood.  But  he  almost  immediately  after  the  last- 
mentioned  instance  of  successful  ingenuity,  under 
took  the  bolder  task  of  framing  a  timekeeper  in 
metal ;  and  this  he  also  successfully  accomplished. 
Among  the  books  he  inherited  from  his  un 
cle  was  an  English  translation  of  the  "Principia" 
of  Newton.  Such  was  the  progress  which  he 
made  in  mathematical  knowledge,  although  now 
destitute  of  any  aid,  that  he  was  enabled  to 
accomplish  the  perusal  of  this  work,  for  the 
proper  understanding  of  which  so  much  acquain 
tance  with  geometry  and  algebra  is  necessary, 
before  he  had  attained  his  nineteenth  year. 
Newton,  as  is  well  known,  from  deference  to  the 
practice  of  the  ancient  philosophers,  adopts  in 
this  work  the  synthetic  method  of  demonstra 
tion,  and  gives  no  clue  to  the  analytic  process  by 
which  the  truth  of  his  propositions  was  first  dis 
covered  by  him.  Unlike  the  English  followers 
of  this  distinguished  philosopher,  who  contented 
themselves,  for  a  time,  with  following  implicitly 
in  the  path  of  geometric  demonstration,  which  he 
had  thus  pointed  out,  Rittenhouse  applied  him 
self  to  search  for  an  instrument,  which  might  be 
applied  to  the  purpose  of  similar  discoveries,  and 
in  his  researches  attained  the  principles  of  the 


DAVID     RITTENHOUSE.  313 

method  of  fluxions.  So  ignorant  was  he  of  the 
progress  which  this  calculus  had  made,  and  of  the 
discussions  in  relation  to  its  invention  and  im 
provernent,  that  he  for  a  time  considered  it  as  a 
new  discovery  of  his  own.  In  this  impression, 
however,  he  could  not  have  long  continued ;  as  he 
made,  in  his  nineteenth  year,  an  acquaintance, 
who  was  well  qualified  to  set  him  right  in  this 
important  point. 

In  the  year  1751,  the  Reverend  Thomas  Barton 
became  an  inhabitant  of  Norriton.  This  gentleman 
had  just  completed  his  education  at  Trinity  Col 
lege,  Dublin,  and  been  admitted  as  a  clergyman 
of  the  Episcopal  Church.  Passing  to  America 
in  pursuit  of  preferment,  which  want  of  powerful 
connexions  denied  him  in  Europe,  he  became  for 
a  time  the  teacher  of  a  school  at  Norriton. 
Although  Mr.  Barton  was  principally  distinguished 
as  a  classical  scholar,  he  was  also  well  grounded 
in  all  the  elementarv  mathematics  then  consid- 

H 

ered  necessary  in  the  undergraduate  course  of 
the  institution,  where  he  received  his  education. 
Exiled  as  he  must  have  felt  himself  from  litera 
ry  society,  the  discovery  of  a  neighbor  of  such 
intelligence  as  Rittenhouse  was  a  matter  of  no 
little  pleasure ;  nor  could  the  latter  have  felt  less 
joy  in  finding  at  last  an  associate  with  whom  he 
could  communicate  on  his  favorite  studies.  The 
difference  in  their  ages  was  but  two  years  ;  and, 


•114  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

when  we  take  into  view  the  more  rapid  devel- 
opement,  both  of  body  and  mind,  which  is  usual 
in  our  climate,  this  difference  was  probably  in 
sensible.  A  strong  intimacy  speedily  took  place, 
which  ripened  into  friendship ;  and  this  friendship 
was  farther  cemented  by  an  attachment,  which 
Barton  formed  for  the  sister  of  Rittenhouse, 
who  subsequently  became  his  wife.  This  inti 
macy  with  Barton  was  attended  with  valuable 
consequences.  Desirous  to  peruse  his  admired 
Newton  in  the  original  dress,  Rittenhouse  now 
applied  himself  to  the  study  of  the  Latin  lan 
guage,  which  he  speedily  mastered.  He  also 
appears,  under  the  instruction  of  Barton,  to  have 
acquired  the  elements  of  Greek,  although  he 
never  attempted  to  become  a  proficient  in  the 
literature  of  that  tongue.  Barton  also  had  it  in 
his  power  to  communicate  to  Rittenhouse  scien 
tific  works  of  more  modern  date,  than  those  to 
which  his  previous  studies  had,  from  circum 
stances,  been  confined,  and  treating  of  a  greater 
variety  of  subjects.  Setting  forth  from  his  native 
country  with  the  intention  of  devoting  himself 
to  the  profession  of  a  teacher,  the  former  had 
provided -himself  with  a  well-selected  library,  not 
only  in  classical  literature,  but  also  in  the  pure  and 
mixed  sciences.  These  were  freely  imparted  to 
bis  youthful  and  ardent  associate. 

Before  two  years  had  elapsed,  the  success  of 


DAVID     RITTENHOUSE.  315 

Barton  as  a  teacher,  attracted  the  attention  of 
the  government  of  the  College  of  Philadelphia. 
He  was  in  consequence  called  to  fill  a  profes 
sor's  chair  in  that  institution.  The  collections  of 
the  College  were  therefore  placed  at  his  dispo 
sal,  and  he  did  not  hesitate  to  use  his  privilege 
for  the  advantage  of  him,  who  had  now  become 
his  brother-in-law.  Barton  had  also  projected 
a  circulating  library  before  he  quitted  Norriton. 
This  project  was  accomplished,  and  Rittenhouse 
took  an  active  part  in  its  management.  By  this 
a  fund  was  obtained  for  the  purchase  of  useful 
works,  which  neither  could  have  afforded  to  pro 
cure  from  his  own  resources. 

Barton  had  not  long  filled  his  chair  in  the 
University,  when  it  became  necessary  for  him  to 
visit  Europe.  He  on  this  occasion  was  commis 
sioned  by  Rittenhouse  to  purchase  an  additional 
supply  of  books.  This  commission  he  faithfully 
fulfilled. 

Such  was  the  aid  which  Rittenhouse  derived 
from  his  brother-in-law ;  but  this,  however  valua 
ble  in  communicating  a  knowledge  of  the  exist 
ing  state  of  science,  and  in  opening  a  channel 
through  another  language,  by  which  to  reach  the 
thoughts  and  learning  of  the  master  spirits,  both 
of  antiquity  and  modern  times,  (for  Latin  had  not 
ceased  to  be  the  conventional  language  of  science,) 
had  no  effect  in  determining  the  inclinations  of 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHJT. 

Rittenhouse  for  mathematical  and  physical  studies 
The  acquaintance  with  Barton  was  therefore  both 
useful  and  profitable,  but  exercised  a  far  less 
important  influence  on  the  future  life  of  Ritten 
house,  than  has  been  frequently  ascribed  to  it. 

The  more,  indeed,  we  contemplate  the  early 
life  of  Rittenhouse,  the  more  our  admiration  is 
excited.  With  such  elementary  knowledge  only 
as  could  be  obtained  at  the  school  of  a  remote 
settlement ;  under  the  parental  discipline  of  a 
father,  who  rather  discouraged  than  aided  his 
studies,  and  of  an  illiterate,  although  strong- 
minded  mother ;  possessed  of  no  books  but  those 
of  an  humble  mechanic ;  he  persevered,  until  he 
had,  step  by  step,  mastered  all  the  truths  of  math 
ematical  science,  and  had  arrived  at  the  princi 
ples  of  that  calculus,  for  the  honor  of  whose  in 
vention  a  Newton  and  a  Leibnitz  had  contended. 
At  the  same  time,  with  no  tools  but  those  of  a 
country  joiner,  and  aided  by  no  instruction  except 
from  books,  he  had  attained  such  skill  in  practical 
mechanics  as  to  execute  the  delicate  mechanism 
of  a  timekeeper. 


DAVID     RITTENHOUSE.  317 


CHAPTER  IV. 

His  Agricultural  Occupations.  —  Choice  of  a 
Profession.  —  Entrance  into  Business.  —  La 
borious  Pursuit  of  his  Trade  and  Scientific 
Studies.  —  Consequent  Injury  to  his  Health. — 
Becomes  known  as  an  Artist  and  an  Astron 
omer.  —  His  Marriage. 

THE  father  of  Rittenhouse  had  always  in 
tended  that  his  eldest  surviving  son  should  pur 
sue  the  same  plan  of  life  which,  on  his  retreat 
from  his  manufactory,  he  had  chosen  for  him 
self.  He  had,  on  leaving  Germantown.  become, 
as  we  have  already  stated,  a  farmer,  and  for  this 
occupation  he  destined  our  philosopher.  The 
term  farmer,  it  may  be  mentioned  incidentally, 
bears  a  far  different  signification  among  us,  from 
that  which  its  derivation  would  seem  to  warrant, 
or  in  which  it  is  understood  in  Great  Britain.  By 
this  word  we  understand,  not  the  tenant,  either 
at  pleasure,  or  on  some  more  secure  tenure,  of 
a  more  wealthy  landlord,  but  most  frequently  the 
independent  cultivator  of  his  own  fields.  The 
condition  of  a  tenant  is  in  truth  extremely  rare  in 
all  parts  of  the  United  States. 

In  the  avocations  necessary   in  this  mode  of 


318  AMERICAN      BIOGRA.PJO 

life,  Rittenhouse  had  been  laboriously  employed, 
from  the  moment  his  strength  was  sufficient  to 
perform  them  ;  and  the  studies  and  mechanical 
operations  of  which  we  have  spoken,  were  no 
more  than  the  pastimes  of  those  intervals  of 
leisure,  which  so  frequently  occur  in  agricultural 
life  in  the  United  States.  When  the  mind  of 
Rittenhouse  became  so  far  matured,  as  to  fit  him 
for  reflecting  upon  the  plan  of  his  future  life,  his 
reason  led  him  to  disapprove  of  that  pointed  out 
by  his  father.  He  had  discovered  in  himself 
powers  of  higher  character,  than  are  necessary  for 
the  occupation  of  a  farmer;  and,  encouraged  by 
his  success  in  the  construction  of  a  complete 
timekeeper,  he  resolved,  could  his  father  be  pre 
vailed  upon  to  give  his  consent,  to  choose  for  his 
profession  that  of  a  clock-maker.  This  branch 
of  the  mechanic  arts  was,  at  that  time,  little 
practised  in  the  colonies,  and  it  does  not  appear 
that  there  were  any  means  within  his  reach  for 
obtaining  instruction  in  it.  His  reasons  finally 
satisfied  his  father  of  the  propriety  of  this  contem 
plated  course. 

The  choice  of  Rittenhouse  was  directed  by  no 
little  wisdom  and  modesty.  Had  his  mind  been 
tinctured  with  vanity,  it  is  probable  that  he  would 
rather  have  sought  to  make  those  studies  av.ail- 
able,  in  which  he  had,  by  this  time,  made  no  mean 
proficiency,  than  have  undertaken  an  apprentice- 


DAVID      RITTENHOUSE.  319 

ship,  for  we  might  so  style  the  practice  of  an  art, 
in  which  his  highest  efforts,  when  compared  even 
with  the  less  perfect  instruments  of  that  period, 
were  no  more  than  the  playthings  of  an  ingenious, 
and  perhaps  precocious  boy.  Years  of  toil  and 
patient  labor  must  have  appeared  in  perspective, 
before  he  could  obtain  a  competent  degree  of 
skill;  and  without  it  the  reputation,  by  which  alone 
fortune,  or  even  competence,  could  be  secured, 
was  inaccessible.  Such  thoughts,  however,  did 
not  deter  Rittenhouse  ;  and,  the  consent  of  his 
father  being  finally  obtained,  along  with  funds 
to  purchase  a  part  of  the  necessary  tools  and 
instruments,  he  opened  a  shop  in  the  year  1751. 
This  was  a  small  building  erected  for  him  on  his 
father's  farm ;  and  he  speadily  stocked  it  with 
instruments,  the  work  of  his  own  hands,  more 
perfect  than  any  which  could  at  that  time  be 
bought  in  Philadelphia. 

The  art  of  clock-making  was  at  that  time  far 
from  having  reached  the  degree  of  perfection  it 
has  attained  of  late  years,  partly  from  the  great 
extent  to  which  the  division  of  labor  has  since 
been  carried'  in  it,  and  partly  from  the  valuable 
improvements  which  it  has  derived  from  the  dis 
coveries  of  physical  science.  To  improve  the 
art  by  introducing  a  division  in  the  labor,  neither 
entered  into  the  views,  nor  was  within  the  means 
of  Rittenhouse.  Such  division  can  only  be 


320  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

carried  into  effect  by  the  resources  of  wealth  and 
capital,  of  which  he  had  little.  But  the  search 
for  improvement,  by  the  application  of  physical 
science,  had  already  been  entered  into ;  and 
Rittenhouse  might  fairly  hope,  that  the  knowledge 
he  had  previously  acquired  might  be  advanta 
geously  applied  to  the  profession  he  had  chosen. 
The  compensation  pendulum  of  Graham,  which 
has  of  late  asserted  its  equality,  if  not  its  supe 
riority,  over  all  others  intended  to  subserve  the 
same  purpose,  had  indeed  been  invented  more 
than  twenty  years  before.  But  his  cotemporaries 
did  not  appreciate  the  merits  of  the  discovery,  and 
it  was  forgotten  or  neglected.  Harrison  and 
Leroy  had  not  made  public  their  inventions,  and 
the  field  of  investigation  appeared  to  be  open. 
The  art  of  clock-making,  therefore,  not  only 
presented  a  trade,  interesting  in  itself,  and  capable 
jf  affording  a  decent  livelihood,  but  also  de 
manded,  in  order  that  it.  should  be  pursued  with 
success,  that  he  should  continue  the  study  of 
those  physical  and  experimental  sciences,  by  the 
progress  of  which  the  instrument  could  alone  be 
perfected.  His  astronomical  studies  had  taught 
him  the  value  of  the  clock  in  the  practical  part 
of  that  science,  a  value  so  great  as  to  render  it 
the  indispensable  companion  of  an  observer  ;  and 
he  was  aware  that  he  could  not  deliver  his  pieces 
of  nicest  workmanship  to  the  purchaser,  until 


DAVID     RITTENHOUSE.  321 

their  rates  had  been  ascertained  by  reference  to 
the  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies.  He  there 
fore  saw  in  his  intended  trade,  not  only  an  oppor 
tunity,  but  a  necessity,  for  continuing  the  study  of 
the  sciences  in  which  he  delighted. 

For  the  space  of  seven  years  Rittenhouse 
devoted  himself  most  assiduously  to  his  trade, 
and  the  studies  he  saw  to  be  connected  with  it. 
The  whole  of  the  day  was  steadily  employed  in 
the  former ;  time  for  the  latter  was  stolen  from  his 
hours  of  repose.  Up  to  this  time  his  constitution, 
fortified  by  agricultural  labor,  and  exercise  in  the 
open  air,  had  been  robust  and  vigorous.  But 
such  intense  and  unremitting  exertion  was  not 
without  evil  effect  upon  his  health ;  and  this  was 
probably  aggravated  by  the  contrast,  which  a 
wholly  sedentary  life  presented  to  his  former 
active  pursuits.  He  finally  was  affected  by  a 
complaint,  the  prominent  symptom  of  which  was 
a  continual  and  disagreeable  sensation  of  heat  in 
his  stomach.  He  was,  in  consequence,  compelled 
to  abandon  for  a  time  the  pursuits  in  which 
he  had  so  earnestly  engaged.  A  short  period 
of  relaxation  sufficed  to  restore  him,  if  not  to 
his  pristine  health,  at  least  to  such  a  degree  of  it, 
as  enabled  him  to  resume  his  business.  But 
the  complaint  was  not  wholly  overcome ;  it  con 
tinued  to  afflict  him  from  time  to  time  throughout 

VOL.  VII. BB  21 


322  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

the   rest  of  his  life,  and  was  finally  the  cause  of 
his   abandoning  the  exercise  of  his  art. 

Pursuing  his  trade  with  such  unwearied  assi 
duity,  it  is  not  surprising  that  he  speedily  acquired 
reputation  for  the  accuracy  and  perfection  of  his 
workmanship.  This  reputation  was  spread  abroad 
by  the  numerous  highly-finished  pieces  of  mech 
anism  which  issued  from  his  workshop,  bearing 
the  maker's  name  inscribed  upon  their  dials. 
His  neighbors  too  were  not  slow  to  note  thf1,  at 
tention  he  paid  to  observations  of  the  heaven 
ly  bodies,  which  he  extended  far  beyond  those 
absolutely  essential  for  the  rating  of  his  time 
keepers,  and  spread  his  fame  throughout  their 
limited  circle  as  an  astronomer.  It  was  now  that 
the  good  offices  of  his  friend  Barton  were  again 
exerted.  Knowing  well  the  ability  of  his  brother- 
in-law,  he  watched  with  earnestness  his  almost 
daily  progress  in  manual  dexterity  and  scientific 
knowledge.  In  the  more  extended  circle  in 
which  he  moved,  he  found  those  who  could  fully 
appreciate  all  the  skill  and  knowledge  of  Ritten- 
house.  With  these  he  brought  him  in  contact, 
to  the  mutual  pleasure  of  both  parties.  From 
such  associations  Rittenhouse  derived  no  little 
benefit,  in  obtaining  a  channel  through  which  his 
merits  could  be  made  more  extensively  known. 
Among  those  who  may  be  mentioned  as  the  ear 
ly  friends  of  Rittenhouse,  were  Dr.  Smith,  the 


DAVID     RITTENHOUSE.  323 

provost  of  the  College  of  Philadelphia,  and 
John  Lukens,  surveyor-general  of  the  province. 
Their  official  positions  rendered  them  the  organs 
of  the  government,  when  a  demand  for  astronomic 
knowledge  arose  for  public  purposes  ;  and  they 
conferred  no  trifling  public  benefit,  when  they 
pointed  out  the  capacity  of  Rittenhouse. 

While  thus  engaged  in  the  pursuit  of  his  occu 
pation,  Rittenhouse  long  remained  an  inmate  of 
hjs  father's  family.  Here  his  labors  were  grad 
ually  acquiring  for  him  provision  competent  to  his 
moderate  desires. 

After  the  lapse  of  thirteen  years  from  the  time 
of  his  entering  into  business,  his  father  made  him 
proprietor  of  the  paternal  mansion,  retiring  him 
self  to  Worcester,  where  he  had  purchased  an 
other  farm.  Thus  having  attained  to  indepen 
dence,  he  sought  a  wife,  and,  in  the  year  1764, 
married  Eleanor  Colston,  the  daughter  of  a  re 
spectable  farmer  of  the  neighborhood.  This  mar 
riage  appears  to  have  been  a  happy  one ;  and  the 
loss  of  his  consort,  after  several  years,  produced 
so  great  a  depression  in  the  spirits  of  the  surviving 
husband,  as  to  call  forth  the  remonstrance*  of  his 
friends 


324  AMERICAN    BIOGRAPHY. 


CHAPTER   V. 

Boundary  Line  of  Pennsylvania,  Delaware,  and 
Maryland.  —  Mason  and  Dixon's  Line.  — 
Boundary  of  Pennsylvania  and  New  York. 


UTTENHOUSE  had  hardly  begun  to  attract  the 
attention  of  the  intelligent  society  of  Philadelphia, 
when  an  occasion  presented  itself  for  applying 
his  peculiar  talent  and  knowledge  to  use  in  the 
public  service.  The  several  States,  of  which  the 
American  Union  was  first  composed,  held  their 
respective  territories  by  grants  from  the  British 
crown.  In  the  absence  of  a  topographical  knowl 
edge  of  the  countries  granted,  it  had  been  cus 
ternary  to  define  the  limits  of  the  several  charters, 
by  lines  traced  upon  a  map,  and  defined  either 
by  geographical  terms,  or  even  by  more  arbitra 
ry  methods.  In  the  subdivision,  which  in  some 
cases  took  place,  of  the  original  grants,  similar 
lines  were  chosen  to  define  the  manner  of  parti 
tion.  These  lines  were  in  most  cases  parallels 
of  latitude,  or  portions  of  a  meridian,  traced  in 
some  given  degree  of  longitude.  However  easy 
it  may  be  to  delineate  such  lines  upon  a  map, 
to  trace  them  upon  the  ground  is  a  business  of 
no  little  labor,  and  requires  no  small  degree  both 
of  astronomic  and  geometric  skill. 


DAVID      RITTENHOU3E.  325 

The  tenure,  by  which  Penn  and  his  descend 
ants  held  their  possessions,  was  defined  by  lines 
of  this  character.  He  had  in  the  first  instance 
purchased  a  territory  included  within  a  circle, 
drawn  around  a  point  in  the  town  of  Newcastle, 
as  a  centre,  with  a  radius  of  twelve  miles.  This 
had  been  subsequently  extended  to  the  south 
by  drawing  a  meridian  line  tangent  to  this  circle. 
By  a  farther  grant  he  had  acquired  all  the  ter 
ritory  extending  westward  from  the  Delaware  be 
tween  certain  parallels  of  latitude,  for  the  dis 
tance  of  five  degrees  of  longitude.  All  these 
contemplated  boundaries  were  as  yet  merely  mat 
ters  of  parchment  record,  or  geographical  descrip 
tion  ;  but  the  place  where  the  lines  existed  was 
in  some  cases  wholly  unknown,  in  others,  but 
imperfectly  guessed  at.  The  part  of  this  boun 
dary,  which  most  early  attracted  the  attention  of 
the  interested  parties,  was  that,  which  separated 
the  territory  held  by  Penn  as  proprietor,  from 
that  belonging  to  Lord  Baltimore,  and  particu 
larly  the  limits  of  the  present  States  of  Dela 
ware  and  Maryland.  As  early  as  1735,  thh 
boundary  had  become  the  subject  of  a  suit  in 
the  British  court  of  chancery,  and  after  fifteen 
years  of  delay  a  decree  had  been  awarded.  By 
this  decree  the  parties  were  directed  to  enter  into 
a  formal  written  agreement  to  have  the  lines 
traced  upon  the  ground.  This  agreement,  how 


AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

ever,  was  not.  executed  until  1760,  and  no  joint 
action  was  had  under  it  until  1769.  But  in  the 
last-mentioned  year  Messrs.  Mason  and  Dixon 
were  sent  out  from  England,  as  commissioners, 
for  the  purpose  of  carrying  the  agreement  into 
effect. 

In  the  proceedings  before  the  court  of  chan 
cery,  the  Penn  family  had  been  the  complain 
ants.  Their  interests  were  far  more  deeply  in 
volved  in  the  decision,  than  those  of  the  opposite 
party ;  for  the  wise  institutions  of  their  ancestor, 
and  the  repugnance  of  the  settlers  under  them  to 
slave  labor,  had  rendered  each  acre  within  their 
proprietary  jurisdiction  of  much  greater  value  than 
in  the  lands  held  by  Lord  Baltimore.  They  were 
therefore  unwilling  to  await  the  slow  course  of 
chancery  proceedings,  but  determined  to  examine 
the  question  for  themselves  ;  knowing,  that,  when 
a  boundary  was  denned  in  scientific  terms,  it  was 
only  necessary  to  cause  it  to  be  traced  by  men 
of  competent  attainments,  and  no  important  dif 
ference  could  arise  in  the  subsequent  determina 
tion  by  a  joint  action. 

The  governor  of  the  province  of  Pennsylvania 
was  therefore  directed  to  seek  out  a  competent 
person,  to  whom  this  important  task  might  be 
intrusted.  The  most  difficult  part  of  the  boun 
dary  was  no  doubt  that  defined  by  a  circle,  hav 
ing  a  radius  of  twelve  miles  around  the  town 


DAVID      RITTEN  HOUSE.  327 

of  Newcastle,  as  a  centre,  and  the  problem  was 
entirely  new  in  practical  geometry.  To  this  the 
attention  of  Rittenhouse  was  first  directed  by 
the  Proprietary  government,  not  only  as  the 
part  of  the  division  line  which  was  involved  in 
ihe  greatest  uncertainty,  but  because  it  passed 
through  lands  at  that  time  more  accessible  and 
therefore  more  valuable  than  any  others  in  dis 
pute.  The  appointment  to  this  important  task 
bore  date  in  1763,  and  he  was  engaged  in  it 
for  some  months  in  the  following  year.  It  was 
performed  so  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  his 
employers,  that  he  was  proffered,  and  received, 
more  than  the  stipulated  compensation.  It  does 
not  appear,  that  on  the  subsequent  arrival  of  the 
commissioners  appointed  by  the  British  court  of 
chancery,  it  became  necessary  to  change  the  lo 
cality  of  any  part  of  this  line,  although  they 
were  furnished  with  the  best  instruments  which 
Europe  could  then  produce,  and  one  of  them 
was  already  highly  celebrated  as  an  accomplished 
observer,  while  the  American  topographer  had 
no  instruments  that  were  not  the  work  of  his 
own  hands,  and  was  as  yet  unknown  to  fame. 

The  British  astronomers,  Messrs.  Mason  and 
Dixon,  seem  therefore  to  have  contented  them 
selves  with  running  the  meridian  tangent  south 
ward,  and  the  parallel  of  latitude  westward, 
until  it  intersected  the  meridian  traced  north- 


328  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

ward  from  the  source  of  the  north  branch  of 
the  Potomac.  They  thus  defined  the  boundaries 
of  the  present  States  of  Maryland  and  Delaware 
on  the  one  hand,  and  of  Pennsylvania  and  Mary 
land  on  the  other.  This  operation  has  become 
famous  on  more  than  one  account.  The  tracing 
of  the  meridian  line  between  two  given  latitudes, 
both  of  which  required  accurate  astronomic  deter 
mination,  over  a  country  nearly  level,  afforded 
an  opportunity  for  actually  measuring  the  itinerary 
length  of  the  arc  in  question.  This  measure  is 
still  quoted  as  one  of  those  whence  the  magnitude 
and  true  figure  of  the  earth  are  to  be  deduced, 
and  is  the  only  case  where  the  length  of  a  degree 
of  a  meridian  has  been  actually  measured  ;  for,  in 
all  other  instances,  the  determination  has  been 
made,  by  measuring  a  base  of  a  few  miles,  and 
calculating  the  whole  length  by  means  of  a  series 
of  triangles.  The  parallel  is  well  known  in 
American  politics,  as  it  forms  the  separation  be 
tween  the  States  to  which  the  names  of  Middle 
and  Southern  are  applied,  and  is  the  boundary 
between  the  region  in  which  domestic  slavery  is 
still  recognised  by  law,  and  that  in  which  it  has 
been  abolished. 

The  previous  observations  of  Rittenhouse  seem 
to  have  greatly  facilitated  these  operations  of 
Mason  and  Dixon ;  but,  as  the  official  report  is 
made  by  them,  and  could  have  authority  onlv 


DAVID      KITTENHOUSE.  329 

when  so  made,  the  connexion  of  our  own  coun 
tryman  with  this  important  question  is  but  lit 
tle  known,  and  rarely  mentioned  even  among  our 
selves. 

That  geographical  and  geometric  lines  should 
have  formed  the  divisions  of  the  original  prov 
inces,  and  thus  of  the  States,  has  exercised  an 
influence  upon  the  destinies  of  our  country,  which 
is  not  the  less  evident,  because  it  has  rarely  been 
noticed.  In  most  of  the  disputes  concerning  land 
titles  derived  from  different  authorities,  or  con 
cerning  territorial  jurisdiction,  it  has  not  been 
necessary  to  have  recourse  to  civil  violence  or 
hostile  arms.  The  ultima  ratio  has  been  not 
the  cannon  or  the  bayonet,  but  the  plumb-line, 
the  clock,  and  the  telescope.  Even  courts  of 
civil  authority,  where  such  have  had  jurisdiction, 
have  been  appealed  to,  only  to  cause  one  or 
other  party  to  perform  his  duty,  or  to  commis 
sion  the  astronomic  surveyors  by  whom  the  de 
termination  was  made.  The  habit  has  thus  been 
created  of  referring  to  reason  and  science  for  the 
composition  of  all  disputes ;  and  this  is  so  firmly 
established  among  the  people,  that  even  the  folly 
of  their  rulers,  as  was  manifested  in  a  recent 
instance,  cannot  bring  them  to  refer  the  matter 
to  the  decision  of  arms.  That  this  habit  has 
become  a  part  of  the  character  of  our  people,  is 
in  a  great  measure  due  to  the  confidence  created 

VII.-T-CC 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

by  the  fidelity  and  accuracy  with  which  the 
earliest  operations  of  the  sort  were  performed. 
From  the  delineation  of  Mason  and  Dixon's  line 
to  the  present  time,  both  State  governments,  al 
though  this  portion  of  their  sovereignty  has  been 
reserved,  and  individuals,  who  have  occasionally 
suffered  hardship,  have  bowed  in  obedience  to 
the  decision  of  the  astronomer,  Rittenhouse  was 
the  first  American,  who  was  employed  in  the 
delineation  of  such  lines ;  he  was  also  most  exten 
sively  engaged  in  tracing  them,  and,  with  those 
formed  under  his  instruction,  actually  defined  near 
ly  all  the  important  division  lines  within  the  char 
tered  limits  of  the  thirteen  original  States.  Most 
of  these  delicate  and  valuable  operations  were 
however  performed  at  a  later  period  of  his  life, 
and  after  the  close  of  the  revolutionary  war. 
The  account  of  them  will  therefore  fall  into  a 
subsequent  chapter  of  this  memoir.  One  alone 
is  connected  by  date  with  that  of  which  we  have 
just  spoken. 

This  was  the  determination  of  the  division  line 
between  New  York  and  New  Jersey,  and  thus 
of  the  point  whence  the  parallel,  which  divides 
the  former  State  from  Pennsylvania,  was  to  be 
traced  westward.  The  northern  limit  of  New 
Jersey  upon  Hudson's  River  is  the  forty-first  de 
gree  of  latitude.  The  point  where  this  parallel 
intersects  the  shore  was  fixed  by  Rittenhouse  in 


DAVID     RITTENHOUSE.  331 

the  year  1769,  at  the  request  of  a  board  of  com 
missioners  deriving  their  authority  from  the  legis 
latures  of  the  provinces  of  New  York  and  New 
Jersey.  The  northern  limit  of  both  Pennsylvania 
and  New  Jersey,  upon  the  Delaware,  is  the  forty- 
second  degree  of  latitude ;  and  this  parallel,  con 
tinued  westward,  divides  the  former  from  New 
York.  To  determine  the  place  where  this  paral 
lel  intersects  the  Delaware,  Rittenhouse  received 
the  appointment  of  commissioner  from  his  native 
province,  and  was  met  by  a  gentleman  named 
on  the  part  of  the  province  of  New  York.  This 
appointment  also  included  the  duty  of  running 
the  parallel  westward,  but  nothing  farther  was 
done  at  the  time  (1774),  than  to  determine  the 
ooint  of  departure  upon  the  Delaware. 


332  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Experiments  on  Expansion.  —  Application  of 
them  to  the  Pendulum.  —  Metallic  Thermom 
eter.  —  Experiments  on  the  Compressibility  of 
Water.  —  Adaptation  of  Planetary  Machines 
to  Clocks.  —  Project  of  an  Orrery. 

FOR  the  sake  of  connecting  with  each  othei 
the  geodetic  operations  of  Rittenhouse  performed 
previous  to  the  revolutionary  war,  we  have  de 
parted  from  the  order  of  time.  We  shall  now 
return,  for  the  purpose  of  mentioning  various 
other  scientific  occupations  in  which  he  was  en 
gaged,  between  the  date  at  which  he  was  first 
employed  upon  the  boundary  of  Maryland,  and 
that  at  which  he  became  a  commissioner  to  define 
the  line  between  the  States  of  New  York  and 
Pennsylvania. 

To  a  person  engaged  in  the  manufacture  of 
clocks,  and  occupied  in  determining  their  rates 
by  astronomic  observations,  the  influence  of  va 
riations  of  temperature  upon  the  oscillations  of 
pendulums  becomes  at  once  apparent.  That  this 
is  owing  to  the  expansion  and  contraction  of  the 
materials  of  which  the  pendulums  are  composed, 
under  alternations  of  heat  and  cold,  was  well 


DAVID     RITTENHOUSE.  333 

understood.  Partial  remedies,  too,  had  been  ap 
plied;  but  they  had  not  yet  been  rendered  as  avail 
able  as  they  might  be,  for  want  of  a  sufficient  num 
ber  of  well-conducted  experiments.  If  such  had 
been  made,  they  had  not  been  recorded  or  pub 
lished.  At  the  present  time,  we  can  refer  to  no 
observations  of  earlier  date  than  those  of  Ritten- 
house,  which  are  worthy  of  confidence,  except  a 
few  of  Muschenbroeck  and  of  Smeaton.  The  lat 
ter  were  only  made  public  in  1754,  when  we  have 
reason  to  believe  that  Rittenhouse  had  already 
made  some  progress  in  his  researches.  That 
he  entered  into  this  investigation  experimental 
ly  and  pursued  it  with  no  small  success,  we 
have  abundant  evidence.  The  first  volume  of 
the  "  Transactions  of  the  American  Philosophical 
Society,"  published  in  1770,  contains  a  paper  of 
his  on  expansion  by  heat ;  another  paper  on  the 
same  subject  is  noted  by  Rush  as  existing  in  their 
archives,  and  is  probably  that  on  the  improve 
ment  of  timekeepers,  in  the  fourth  volume.  The 
accuracy  of  his  experiments  is  demonstrated  by 
the  various  astronomic  clocks,  which  were  con 
structed  by  his  own  hands,  or  under  his  direction, 
in  which  original  forms  of  compensation  pendu 
lums  were  employed.  In  this  respect,  Ritten 
house  was  somewhat  in  advance  of  the  appli 
cations  of  science  in  Europe.  The  mercurial 
pendulum,  which  is  now  admitted  to  be  the  best 


334  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

compensation  for  a  fixed  observatory,  had  indeed 
been  invented  by  Graham  in  1726 ;  but  this  im 
portant  discovery  had  been  neglected  and  almost 
forgotten.  The  account  of  the  gridiron  pendu 
lum,  which  was  the  first  that  came  into  familiar 
use  in  Europe,  was  not  published  by  Harrison 
until  1775.  Rittenhouse  himself,  however,  in  a 
letter  dated  in  1768,  refers  to  Harrison's  time 
keepers  as  having  been  executed  in  1765.  If, 
then,  he  was  aware  of  the  discoveries  of  Graham 
and  Harrison  at  the  time  he  commenced  his  own 
researches,  he  did  not  content  himself  with  a 
servile  imitation,  but  entered  into  experiments  on 
which  to  found  his  own  practice,  and  struck  out 
a  method  of  compensation  different  from  either. 

Another  valuable  application  of  a  correct  knowl 
edge  of  the  relative  expansions  of  solid  bodies 
also  occurred  to  Rittenhouse,  and  he  carried  this 
application  into  successful  practice.  In  this  he 
forestalled,  in  the  career  of  discovery,  Breguet, 
who,  within  the  present  century,  has  received  no 
small  praise  for  the  re-invention  of  a  forgotten 
instrument  of  Rittenhouse's.  We  refer  to  the 
metallic  thermometer.  It  is  in  evidence,  that,  in 
the  year  1769,  the  latter  constructed  an  instru 
ment,  in  which,  by  the  expansion  of  metals,  a 
hand  was  made  to  traverse  on  a  semicircular 
dial-plate,  on  which  were  marked  the  degrees 
of  Fahrenheit's  thermometer,  and  that  it  corre- 


DAVID     KITTEN  HOUSE.  335 

sponded  in  its  indications  with  the  mercurial  in 
strument.  Here  then  we  have  his  experimental 
knowledge  brought  to  a  severe  practical  test,  and 
applied  to  an  important  purpose. 

The  Florentine  Academy  had,  by  an  experi 
ment,  all  the  circumstances  of  which  could  not 
be  reached,  inferred  the  incompressibility  of  wa 
ter.  The  accuracy  of  this  inference  remained  for 
a  long  time  unquestioned.  It  may  be  doubted, 
whether  the  whole  scientific  world  rejected  the 
Florentine  experiment  until  very  recently,  when 
the  experiments  of  Oersted  and  Perkins  have 
demonstrated  the  compressibility  of  water  beyond 
all  cavil.  The  question  was  at  least  still  open  in 
the  days  of  Rittenhouse,  and  he  proceeded,  in 
1767,  to  examine  it  for  his  own  satisfaction.  In 
doubting  the  results  of  the  Florentine  philoso 
phers,  he  was  not  however  original ;  the  subject 
had  already  been  examined  by  Canton  in  Eng 
land,  and  by  Kinnersley,  at  that  time  a  professor 
in  the  College  of  Philadelphia.  But,  as  the  ques 
tion  was  not  yet  admitted  to  be  settled,  merit  is 
still  to  be  attributed  to  one  who  brought  the  aid 
of  his  powers  of  research  to  the  investigation  of 
an  important  question  in  physical  science ;  an  in 
vestigation  which  he  pursued  by  means  of  his 
own  contrivance,  and  illustrated  by  experiments 
of  great  ingenuity. 

The  merits  of  Rittenhouse,  not  as  a  mecha*»i« 


336  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

only,  but  as  a  successful  improver  of  physical 
science,  now  became  apparent  to  his  country 
men.  His  rising  reputation  is  manifested  by  the 
compliment  paid  him  in  1767  by  the  College 
of  Philadelphia,  by  which  the  honorary  degree 
of  Master  of  Arts  was  conferred  upon  him  at  the 
public  commencement.  At  a  time  when  the  dis 
tinction  in  points  of  useful  knowledge,  between 
those  who  had  received  the  advantage  of  a  public 
education  and  those  who  had  not,  was  still  marked, 
this  act  implied  a  higher  degree  of  acknowledged 
merit,  than  would  be  inferred  from  a  similar  diplo 
ma  at  the  present  day.  It  was  therefore  not  only 
a  deserved  compliment,  but  a  passport  to  the 
realms  of  science. 

In  the  pursuit  of  his  mechanical  vocation,  Rit- 
tenhouse  had  complied,  as  was  necessary,  with 
the  prevailing  taste.  His  clocks  were  not  only 
accurate  as  timekeepers,  and  furnished  with  the 
apparatus  for  striking  the  hours,  but  they  fre 
quently  contained  chimes,  and  other  arrange 
ments  for  performing  pieces  of  music.  Among 
other  embellishments,  he  had  adapted  to  one 
of  his  timekeepers  a  small  planetary  machine, 
in  which  the  mean  motions  of  the  bodies  of 
the  solar  system  were  made  to  keep  their  proper 
rate  with  the  time  marked  by  the  instrument. 
The  calculations,  into  which  it  became  necessary 
for  him  to  enter  as  a  preparation  for  this  toy, 


D  A  V  1 1)     KIT T£N HOUSE.  337 

appeared  as  capable  of  application  on  a  larger 
scale.  He,  in  consequence,  in  1767,  projected 
the  instrument,  which,  perhaps  improperly,  is 
known  under  the  name  of  his  Orrery. 

Machines,  by  which  the  apparent  motions  of 
the  heavenly  bodies  couid  be  represented,  are  of 
remote  origin.  Among  the  ancients  they  had  even 
been  brought  to  such  a  degree  of  perfection,  as 
to  be  capable  of  use  in  the  prediction  of  eclipses, 
and  of  other  phenomena,  with  an  accuracy  as 
great  as  that  of  any  other  known  method.  The 
great  improvements  made  in  modern  astronomy 
had  rendered  them  useless  for  any  such  purpose  ; 
and,  confined  to  the  representation  of  appearances 
alone,  the  mechanic  spheres  of  the  ancients  were 
rejected  as  giving  false  notions  of  the  structure  of 
the  universe.  Still,  planetary  machines  were  not 
the  less  in  request,  and  it  was  attempted  to  give, 
by  means  of  them,  an  exhibition  of  the  true  rela 
tive  motions  and  distances  of  the  bodies  of  the 
solar  system.  The  most  celebrated  machine  of 
this  character  was  constructed  by  Rowley  for  the 
head  of  the  family  of  Boyle,  a  name  of  no  little 
lustre  in  the  annals  of  science.  This  nobleman 
bearing  the  title  of  Earl  of  Orrery,  the  instrument 
was  introduced  to  the  public  under  this  name, 
which  still  continues  to  be  applied  'to  all  those 
intended  for  similar  purposes.  By  this  name  also 
did  Rittenhouse  propose  to  designate  his  projected 

VOL.  vii.  22 


338  AMERICAN     BIOGKAPHY. 

piece  of  mechanism.  In  his  views,  however,  he 
was  actuated  by  a  much  higher  ambition  than  has 
ever  stimulated  any  other  person,  who  has  at 
tempted  to  exhibit  the  mechanism  of  the  universe 
by  the  aid  of  the  workmanship  of  human  hands. 

Abandoning  all  attempts  to  exhibit  the  imagi 
nary  celestial  sphere,  a  mode  of  representing  ap 
pearances,  which  is  no  more  than  a  projection  in 
orthographic  perspective  upon  a  surface  supposed 
to  be  infinitely  distant,  he  retained  no  other  por 
tion  of  it  but  the  zodiac.  He  wisely  saw  the 
immense  difference,  which  must  result  between 
the  true  geocentric  places  of  the  bodies  them 
selves,  and  those  which  would  be  represented  by 
any  instrument  enclosed  within  a  skeleton  sphere. 
His  mimic  planets  were  not  made  to  revolve  in 
circular  orbits  with  uniform  motion,  but  were 
caused  to  describe  ellipses  in  conformity  to  the 
laws  by  which  Kepler  had  completed  the  theory 
of  Copernicus.  So  far  from  being  content  with 
a  mere  approximation  to  the  relative  motions, 
he  conceived  the  design  of  regulating  them  to 
each  other  with  such  accuracy,  that  his  instrument 
might  be  used  in  the  place  of  tables  for  predicting 
the  places  and  phenomena  for  any  given  epoch. 
Bold  and  novel  as  were  these  designs,  Ritten- 
house  proposed  to  carry  them  into  effect,  if  not 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  supersede  the  use  of 
astronomic  tables,  yet  so  as  to  give  to  calculators 


DAVID     R1TTENHOUSE.  339 

a  valuable  check  upon  their  numerical  computa 
tions.  The  motions  of  his  mimic  planets  were 
to  be  so  registered  upon  proper  dials,  as  to  give 
not  the  mean  heliocentric  places,  but  the  true 
anomalies,  defining  the  positions  in  elliptic  orbits, 
both  as  seen  from  the  sun  and  from  the  earth  for 
twenty-five  centuries  before,  and  as  many  after, 
the  date  of  its  construction.  If,  then,  we  should 
ascribe,  as  some  have  done,  to  the  orrery  of  Rit- 
tenhouse  no  higher  place  among  physical  instru 
ments  than  that  of  an  ingenious  philosophic  toy, 
we  must  admit  that  he  exhausted  in  its  construc 
tion  all  the  existing  knowledge  of  astronomy,  and 
applied  this  extensive  scientific  information,  with 
the  most  consummate  practical  skill. 

From  the  time  at  which  the  orrery  was  pro 
jected,  until  it  was  actually  completed,  Ritten- 
house  was  exposed  to  many  interruptions.  These, 
however,  are  so  little  to  be  regretted,  that  we 
consider  them  as  having  furnished  him  with  the 
means  of  establishing  his  future  fame  upon  a 
basis  far  more  sure  than  any  such  application, 
even  of  the  highest  science,  and  the  most  perfect 
mechanical  dexterity. 


340  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Preparations   for    Observing    the     Transit    of 
Venus. 

UP  to  the  year  1768,  we  have  no  records  of 
the  astronomic  observations  of  Rittenhouse.  They 
had  been  limited  to  such  as  were  necessary  for 
regulating  his  timekeepers,  or  were  called  for  in 
tracing  the  boundary  lines,  for  the  determination 
of  which  his  practical  and  theoretic  skill  had  been 
resorted  to.  In  the  practice  of  such  observations, 
and  in  the  execution  of  the  public  trusts  confided 
to  him,  he  had  gradually  acquired  much  dexterity 
in  the  management  of  instruments,  and  facility  in 
calculation.  The  year  1769  presented  an  oppor 
tunity,  in  which  his  practised  powers  of  obser 
vation  and  computation  might  be  applied  to  an 
important  purpose.  This  year  is  rendered  memo 
rable  in  the  annals  of  astronomy,  by  the  recur 
rence  of  that  rare  phenomenon,  the  transit  of  the 
planet  Venus  over  the  Sun's  disk. 

From  the  time  that  the  truth  of  the  Coper- 
nican  system  had  been  universally  admitted,  it 
.was  known  that  this  planet  must,  at  every  suc 
ceeding  interval  of  about  five  hundred  and  eighty- 
four  days,  be  in  inferior  conjunction  with  the  sun 


DAVID     KIT  TEN  HOUSE.  341 

Whether  the  planet  shall  be  exactly  interposed  at 
this  time  between  the  body  of  the  sun  and  the 
earth,  in  such  manner  that  it  may  be  seen,  by  the 
aid  of  proper  instruments,  passing  over  the  disk 
of  the  former,  will  depend  upon  the  inclination 
of  the  orbit  of  the  planet.  As  this  inclination  is 
considerable,  the  phenomenon  of  such  a  passage 
was  inferred  to  be  at  best  a  rare  one.  Before  the 
telescope  was  adapted  as  a  sight  to  graduated 
instruments,  and  great  public  observatories  were 
established  at  national  expense,  the  tables  which 
gave  the  inclination  of  Venus'  orbit  were  far  from 
agreeing.  An  Englishman  of  the  name  of  Hor- 
rox,  however,  placing  reliance  upon  the  Rudol- 
phine  tables  of  Kepler,  ventured  to  predict  a 
transit  of  this  planet  for  the  year  1639.  The 
result  verified  his  prediction,  and  he,  with  a  friend 
of  the  name  of  Crabtree,  was  fortunate  enough  to 
see  this  rare  and  curious  phenomenon,  of  which 
they  alone  were  witnesses.  The  improvement  in 
the  tables  of  the  elements  of  the  orbits  of  planets, 
made  in  consequence  of  the  establishment  of  the 
observatories  of  Paris  and  Greenwich,  enabled 
astronomers  to  predict  with  certainty  transits  for 
the  years  1761  and  1769.  No  other  can  again 
take  place  until  the  year  1874.  The  phenome 
non,  from  its  extreme  rarity,  is  therefore  one  of 
the  greatest  interest  in  astronomy.  Far  greater 
importance  had,  however,  been  given  to  the 


342  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

phenomenon  of  the  transit  by  the  remark  of  Hal- 
ley,  that  observations  of  it,  made  either  at  a  sin 
gle  favorable  position,  or  in  remote  parts  of  the 
earth's  surface,  afforded  the  best  possible  data  for 
calculating  the  dimensions  of  the  solar  system ; 
for,  by  means  of  them,  the  horizontal  parallax, 
both  of  Venus  and  the  sun,  may  be  determined, 
and  thence  their  distances,  in  terms  of  a  semi- 
diameter  of  the  earth,  become  capable  of  calcu 
lation  in  the  most  easy  way. 

The  transit  of  1761  was  visible  in  Europe,  and 
in  other  parts  of  the  eastern  continent.  Its  ap 
proach  was  looked  for  with  great  anxiety,  and  im 
posing  preparations  were  made  for  observing  it. 
Not  only  were  such  measures  taken  at  the  great 
observatories  of  Europe,  but  observers,  furnished 
with  the  best  instruments  whjch  the  existing  state 
of  the  arts  would  supply,  were  despatched  to  St. 
Helena,  to  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  to  Tobolsk, 
to  Calcutta,  to  Madras,  and  to  Tranquebar.  The 
governments  of  France,  England,  Russia,  and  Den 
mark  seemed  to  vie  with  each  other  in  zeal ;  and 
no  expense  was  spared  to  make  the  observation 
complete,  by  which  the  truth  of  the  Copernican 
system  might  be  brought  to  ocular  demonstration, 
the  laws  of  Kepler  reduced  to  experimental  proof, 
and  the  vast  distances  and  dimensions  of  the  solar 
system  included  in  a  problem,  as  simple  in  form  as 
the  easiest  case  of  trigonometry.  No  part  of  the 


DAVID     KITTEN HOUSE.  343 

transit  of  1761  was  to  be  visible  in  the  continent 
of  America ;  but,  in  the  island  of  Newfoundland, 
the  sun  would  be  seen  to  rise  before  the  emer 
gence  of  the  planet  from  his  disk.  As  this  was  the 
only  spot  in  the  western  hemisphere,  where  an 
observation  could  be  made,  Professor  Winthrop, 
of  Harvard  University,  was  sent  to  St.  John's,  in 
that  island,  furnished  with  the  proper  instruments 
by  the  liberal  grant  of  the  colonial  Assembly  of 
Massachusetts.  In  fine,  wherever  the  transit  was 
to  be  visible,  and  this  was  in  every  part  of  the 
civilized  world  except  America,  every  amateur  as 
tronomer,  as  well  as  those  who  made  that  science 
their  profession,  endeavored,  to  the  utmost  of  his 
means,  to  take  advantage  of  the  rare  occasion. 

Notwithstanding  such  imposing, and  costly  prep 
arations,  the  transit  of  1761  ended  in  disappoint 
ing  every  hope.  Some  of  the  most  practised  ob 
servers,  particularly  those  stationed  at  the  great 
fixed  observatories,  lost  the  view  altogether,  in  con 
sequence  of  the  weather ;  a  very  considerable  dis 
crepancy  existed  among  the  observations  of  others  ; 
and,  upon  the  whole,  the  determination  of  the  par 
allaxes  was  admitted  to  be  inconclusive.  It  was 
indeed  remarked,  that,  by  throwing  out  four  of  the 
observations  altogether,  the  rest  might  be  made  to 
agree,  or  that  the  same  might  be  done,  by  suppos 
ing,  what  occasionally  happens,  that  each  of  these 
four  observers  had  noted  the  wrong  minute,  in 


344  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

writing  this  element  of  time  in  front  of  the  second 
marked  by  his  clock.  That  this  was  the  case, 
has  now  been  established,  beyond  the  possibility 
of  doubt ;  but,  to  correct,  in  this  apparently  arbi 
trary  manner,  a  large  proportion  of  all  the  obser 
vations,  which  the  state  of  the  heavens  permitted 
to  be  made,  would  hardly  have  been  justified  by 
any  of  the  laws  of  probability. 

Such  an  unfortunate  result  of  the  transit  of 
1761  served  to  make  that  of  1769  of  far  greater 
interest  than  had  attached  even  to  the  former. 
The  hopes  of  astronomers  having  been  once  frus 
trated,  anxiety  became  mingled  with  expectation; 
and  this  anxiety  was  enhanced  by  the  considera 
tion,  that  but  a  small  part  of  the  transit  of  1769 
was  to  be  visible  to  any  of  the  great  observatories 
of  Europe.  At  Stockholm,  London,  Paris,  Lis 
bon,  and  Madrid,  the  immersion  might  be  seen 
just  before  sunset,  and  the  emersion  at  Peters 
burg  soon  after  sunrise  on  the  following  morning, 
but  at  no  other  European  capital.  In  the  north 
era  frozen  zone,  beyond  the  latitude  of  sixty- 
seven  and  a  half  degrees,  the  sun  was  not  to  set  on 
the  day  of  the  transit ;  the  whole  of  the  phenom 
enon  would  therefore  be  visible  ;  and  at  Ward- 
buys,  in  Lapland,  where  the  observation  would  be 
included  between  the  hours  of  half  past  nine  in 
the  afternoon  and  three  in  the  morning,  the  cir 
cumstances  would  be  the  most  favorable  possible 


D  A  V  I  J>     R I  T  T  E  N  H  O  U  3  E  .  345 

In  less  high  northern  latitudes,  near  the  same 
meridian,  the  beginning  might  occur  before  sunset, 
and  the  end  take  place  after  sunrise.  Such  a 
position  was  found  at  Cajaneburg  in  Sweden. 

Maskelyne,  the  British  Astronomer  Royal,  see 
iug  that  advantages,  such  as  were  presented  by  the 
last-mentioned  places  could  be  secured  by  the 
comparison  of  observations  made  at  two  different 
points,  one  in  the  southern,  the  other  in  the 
northern  hemisphere,  induced  his  government  to 
despatch  two  expeditions,  the  one  to  Hudson's 
Bay.  the  other  to  Otaheite.  The  latter  was  under 
the  command  of  the  celebrated  Cook. 

The  French  government,  at  the  instance  of 
Lalande,  sent  Chappe  to  California ;  here  the  im 
mersion  was  to  take  place  when  the  sun  was  on 
the  meridian,  and,  at  that  season,  not  far  from  the 
zenith. 

Even  at  Pekin,  although  only  the  last  contact 
was  to  be  visible,  the  European  astronomers  of 
the  imperial  observatory  were  aided  and  excited 
to  the  task.  It  may  be  here  mentioned,  that  a 
great  degree  of  jealousy,  and  consequent  mystery, 
attended  the  preparations  of  the  several  govern 
ments.  This  appears  to  have  arisen  from  the 
arrogance  of  Lalande,  who  wished  to  assume  the 
direction  of  the  whole,  and  expressed  his  expec 
tations  that  the  records  of  the  observations  should 
be  sent  to  him  for  calculation.  The  choice  of 

VII. DD 


346  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

the  stations  of  Otaheite  and  Wardhuys  was  there 
fore  carefully  concealed  from  him,  until  it  was 
too  late  for  him  to  abandon  the  less  favorable  pos 
ition  of  California,  for  another. 

The  position  of  Pennsylvania  offered  advan 
tages  of  another  description  ;  the  whole  of  the 
transit  was  to  be  visible,  beginning  before,  and 
terminating  after  noon.  It  was  thus  to  occur  at 
hours  when  less  disturbance  was  to  be  feared  from 
fogs  and  vapors,  than  in  the  north  of  Europe ; 
while  the  effects  of  the  parallax,  it  was  hoped,  if 
less  than  at  Cajaneburg,  Otaheite,  or  Wardhuys, 
might  be  sufficiently  marked  to  admit  of  favorable 
results  in  the  subsequent  calculations.  At  all 
events,  it  would  be  a  subject  of  mortification,  that 
so  important  a  phenomenon,  visible  throughout  its 
whole  duration  to  the  then  British  colonies  in 
America,  should  be  permitted  to  pass  unnoticed, 
except  by  idle  curiosity;  while  a  successful  ob 
servation,  and  the  calculation  of  the  important 
results,  would  redound  to  the  scientific  reputation 
of  the  whole  of  the  provinces. 

Such  reflections  did  not  escape  Rittenhouse, 
and  while  he  felt  his  own  capacity  to  perform 
the  necessary  operations  unaided,  and  had  pre 
pared  with  his  own  hands  most  of  the  more 
essential  instruments,  he  showed  himself  unwilling 
to  attempt  to  engross  the  whole  honor,  and  mani 
fested  a  laudable  anxiety  to  have  the  means  of 


DAVID      R  ITT  EN  HOUSE.  347 

observation  so  far  multiplied  and  distributed,  that 
the  risk  of  failure  from  unfavorable  weather,  or 
any  other  contingency,  might  be  as  much  dimin 
ished  as  was  possible.  He  therefore  communicated 
to  the  Philosophical  Society  of  Philadelphia  a 
calculation  of  the  anticipated  times  and  pheno 
mena  of  the  transit,  as  likely  to  be  visible  at 
Norriton,  and  called  the  attention  of  that  learned 
body  to  the  important  subject.  It  cannot  be 
doubted  that  the  members  of  that  Society,  who 
afterwards  distinguished  themselves  by  perform 
ing  a  part  in  the  observation  and  subsequent 
calculations,  were  aware  of  the  importance  of  the 
occasion  ;  but  the  matter  appears  to  have  been 
first  brought  before  them  in  a  tangible  shape  by 
the  communication  of  Rittenhouse  ;  and  this  com 
munication,  showing  them  that  they  had  in  the 
vicinity,  both  many  of  the  instruments,  and  an 
expert  observer  and  calculator,  seems  to  have 
served  as  a  stimulus  to  their  zeal,  by  exhibiting 
the  possibility  of  attaining  high  honor,  where  the 
gratification  of  a  laudable  and  enlightened  curi 
osity  had  alone  been  thought  of. 


348  AMERICAN    BIOGRAPHY. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Observation  of  the    Transit  of   Venus.  —  Cat* 
culation  of  the  Parallax  of  the  Sun. 

PREVIOUS  to  the  year  1768,  Philadelphia  had 
not  only  become  the  seat  of  a  highly  respectable 
seminary  of  learning,  which  has  since  by  gradual 
expansion  become  a  thriving  university  ;  but  had 
been  chosen  as  the  place  of  meeting  of  a  scien 
tific  association,  which  still  flourishes  under  the 
name  of  the  American  Philosophical  Society. 
Although  members  of  this  association  resided  in 
various  parts  of  the  colonies,  the  intelligence  of 
the  citizens  of  Philadelphia  gave  them  no  ill- 
founded  claim  to  the  choice  of  their  city  as  the 
scientific  centre  of  the  Union,  and  this  choice  has 
been  justified  by  the  share  which  they  have  taken 
in  its  proceedings  and  published  memoirs.  To 
this  learned  association  the  communication  of  Rit- 
tenhouse  on  the  subject  of  the  transit  of  1769  was 
addressed.  The  American  Philosophical  Society 
seems  to  have  appreciated  fully  the  interest  of 
the  subject,  and  to  have  entered  zealously  into 
measures  of  cooperation.  In  order  that  prepara 
tions  might  be  made,  adequate  to  the  importance 
of  the  occasion,  a  large  committee  was,  on  the 


; 

DAVID     RITTENHOUSE.  349 

7th  of  December,  1768,  chosen  from  among  the 
members.  Of  this  committee,  Rittenhouse  was 
one.  The  committee  lost  no  time  in  assembling, 
in  order  to  plan  the  most  expedient  mode  of 
carrying  the  purposes  of  their  appointment  into 
effect.  Three  places  of  observation  were  imme 
diately  selected.  The  first  of  these  was  the 
State-house  Square  of  Philadelphia ;  the  second, 
Cape  Henlopen,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Delaware  ; 
the  third  was  Norriton,  the  residence  of  Ritten 
house.  The  charge  of  making  the  observations 
at  Cape  Henlopen  was  intrusted  to  Mr.  Owen 
Biddle ;  Professor  Ewing  of  the  College,  and 
Dr.  Hugh  Williamson,  were  appointed  to  the 
Philadelphia  station ;  while  Provost  Smith  and 
Mr.  Lukens  were  associated  with  Rittenhouse  at 
Norriton. 

The  proprietaries  of  the  province,  the  colonial 
legislature,  and  the  public  institutions  of  Philadel 
phia  furnished  aid  with  great  liberality  to  the  im 
portant  object.  The  station  at  Cape  Henlopen  was 
provided  with  an  excellent  telescope,  as  well  as 
with  timekeepers,  and  the  instruments  for  rating 
them.  A  complete  observatory  was  erected  in 
the  State-house  Square,  to  which  were  assigned 
an  equal  altitude  and  a  transit  instrument,  with  a 
great  zenith  sector,  the  property  of  the  proprie 
taries;  to  these,  a  powerful  reflecting  telescope, 
furnished  with  a  micrometer,  was  added  by  the 


350  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

funds  granted  by  the  legislature.  Rittunhouse 
was  left  to  prepare  and  furnish  his  observatory 
from  his  own  resources.  He  had,  in  the  autumn 
of  1768,  commenced  the  construction  of  a  proper 
building,  which  was  finished  in  April,  1769.  In 
this  he  placed  a  transit  and  an  equal-altitude  in 
strument,  with  a  clock,  all  the  work  of  his  own 
hands.  He  was  however  without  an  instrument 
for  determining  his  latitude  ;  this  was  finally  ob 
tained  by  the  exertions  of  Provost  Smith  from  the 
surveyor-general  of  New  Jersey,  (Lord  Stirling,) 
in  the  form  of  an  astronomical  quadrant  of  two  and 
a  half  feet.  All  that  remained  to  be  provided  was 
a  telescope  of  sufficient  power,  furnished  with  a 
micrometer.  Two  telescopes  of  less  magnitude 
seem  indeed  to  have  been  provided ;  but  the  mi 
crometer  was  indispensable  to  a  complete  set  of 
observations.  Provost  Smith  had,  however,  sought 
at  an  early  period  for  the  means  of  supplying  this 
deficiency ;  he  had  entered  into  correspondence 
on  the  subject  with  Mr.  Penn,  the  proprietary,  and 
with  the  British  Astronomer  Royal.  In  conse 
quence  of  his  representations,  Mr.  Penn  purchased 
and  sent  out,  for  the  use  of  the  observatory  at 
Norriton,  an  excellent  reflecting  telescope  and  mi 
crometer. 

The  observatory  at  Norriton  being  thus  at  last 
completely  provided,  Rittenhouse  applied  himself 
with  diligence  to  the  necessary  preparations.  The 


DAVID     KITTENHOUSE.  351 

distance  from  Philadelphia  was  sufficient  to  make 
it  inconvenient  for  his  colleagues  on  the  sub-com 
mittee  to  render  him  much  assistance,  and  they 
seem  to  have  considered  it  unnecessary  to  attempt 
to  overcome  this  inconvenience.  Confiding  in  the 
attention  and  skill  of  their  associate,  they  left 
all  the  preliminary  observations  and  calculations 
wholly  to  him.  These  were  executed  in  a  man 
ner  which  fully  justified  their  having  intrusted 
the  whole  matter  to  their  colleague,  and,  when 
the  approach  of  the  day  of  the  transit  called 
them  to  their  posts,  nothing  was  left  for  them  tu 
do,  but  to  take  their  seats  at  the  telescopes  pro 
vided  for  them. 

The  labor  imposed  upon  Rittenhouse  became 
therefore  more  arduous,  and  the  responsibility 
greater,  than  was  originally  intended  by  the  So 
ciety,  or  than  he  would  probably  have  ventured 
to  assume.  Great  anxiety  was  also  mingled  with 
the  exhaustion  produced  by  continual  labor,  both 
by  day  and  night;  for  it  was  within  the  limit  of 
possibility,  that,  as  on  the  former  occasion  (1761), 
clouds  might  interfere  with  the  observation. 

The  morning  of  the  expected  day,  however, 
broke  without  a  cloud,  and  not  even  a  floating 
wreath  of  vapor  appeared  to  interfere  with  the 
observations.  Exhilarated  by  the  favorable  state 
of  the  atmosphere,  and  stimulated  by  the  near 
approach  of  the  time  when  he  was  to  reap  the 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

fruit  of  his  long  and  patient  labors,  excitement 
supplied  the  place  of  strength.  But  when  the 
contact  had  been  observed,  and  the  planet  had 
entered  fairly  upon  the  disk  of  the  sun,  his  bodily 
strength  was  exhausted,  and  he  sunk  fainting  to 
the  ground,  unable  to  bear  the  intense  feelings 
of  delight  which  attended  the  accomplishment 
of  his  wishes.  He  however  speedily  recovered, 
and  proceeded  -to  perform  the  measures  of  the 
distances  between  the  centres  of  the  two  bodies, 
at  proper  intervals  during  the  continuance  of  the 
transit. 

When  the  record  of  the  observations  made  at 
Norriton  came  to  be  collated,  not  only  with  those 
of  the  other  members  of  the  committee  of  the 
American  Philosophical  Society,  but  with  those 
made  in  different  parts  of  the  world,  the  practi 
cal  skill  of  Rittenhouse  shone  forth  in  the  most 
brilliant  light ;  and  it  would  have  been  sufficient 
for  his  fame  had  he  added  no  more  than  this 
record  to  the  science  of  astronomy.  But  he  was 
not  content  with  having  performed  more  than  his 
full  share  of  the  observation,  and  executed  the 
whole  of  the  preparatory  work.  The  planet  had 
hardly  completed  its  emergence,  before  he  set 
himself  down  to  the  task  of  calculating  the  par 
allaxes.  His  calculation  was  among  the  earliest 
that  were  completed,  and  the  results  were  forth 
with  communicated  to  Dr.  Smith,  who  incorpo- 


DAV1U     RITTENHOUSE.  353 

rated  them  in  a  paper  of  his  own,  which  was  laid 
before  the  Philosophical  Society.  This  learned 
body  did  not  hesitate  in  undertaking  the  costly 
duty  of  committing  this  paper,  with  some  others 
on  the  same  subject,  to  the  press,  and  it  thus 
happened,  that  the  first  correct  determination  of 
the  solar  parallax  was  derived  from  an  American 
source.  Before  a  transit  of  Venus  could  be  ob 
served  for  the  purpose,  astronomers  had  no  mode 
of  determining  the  dimensions  of  the  solar  system, 
except  by  the  parallax  of  Mars.  The  exact  de 
termination  of  the  parallax  of  this  planet  is  far 
from  being  easy,  and  thus  no  writer  before  1761 
had  ventured  to  assign  to  the  sun  a  parallax  of 
less  than  10".  The  calculations  of  the  American 
committee  did  not  make  this  parallax  more  than 
8".6.  Some  time  elapsed  before  the  record  of 
the  distant  observations  could  reach  Europe  and 
be  collated.  When  this  was  done,  the  calcula 
tions  were  made  up,  not  by  the  observers  them 
selves,  but  by  Maskelyne  in  England,  and  Duse- 
jour  in  France.  The  result  of  these  calculations 
gave  8".88  for  the  solar  parallax.  When  how 
ever  all  the  observations,  with  the  exception  of 
the  American,  are  brought  into  the  calculation,  the 
mean  derived  from  the  whole  has  been  found  to 
be  rather  below  8".6,  than  greater ;  and  thus  the 
results  of  the  American  observations  were  not 
VOL.  vii.  23 


354  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

only  first  calculated,  but  gave  the  most  accurate 
determination. 

This  very  accuracy  of  the  American  observa 
tions  and  calculations  seems  to  have  been  at  first 
injurious  to  their  credit.  Those  who  had  locg 
been  accustomed  to  estimate  the  distance  between 
the  sun  and  earth  at  eighty  millions  of  miles,  were 
not  prepared  to  have  that  distance  suddenly  in 
creased  to  ninety-six  millions.  The  highest  de 
termination  which  could  possibly  be  drawn  from 
the  observations  was  for  a  time  preferred  as  most 
likely  to  be  accurate.  It  hence  arose,  that  these 
records  of  the  skill  and  science,  which  our  coun 
trymen  exhibited  more  than  sixty  years  since,  are 
but  little  appreciated  even  among  ourselves;  while 
in  Europe  they  are  almost  forgotten.  Even  the ' 
learned  Delambre,  in  his  account  of  the  manner 
in  which  the  .dimensions  of  our  system  were  deter 
mined,  neglects  to  quote  the  papers  of  the  Amer 
ican  Philosophical  Society,  although  he  shows  by 
a  recalculation  of  all  the  other  observations,  that 
the  true  result  is  almost  identical  with  that,  which 
was  set  forth  in  those  very  papers.  Of  the  honor 
to  which  the  American  Philosophical  Society  is 
justly  entitled  for  its  labors  and  exertions  on  this 
occasion,  no  small  portion  is  due  to  Rittenhouse. 
His  relative  merits  were  fully  appreciated  in 
Europe,  and  he  was  named  with  the  highest 
Braise  in  the  congratulations,  which  flowed  in  from 


1>AVI1>     RITTfilirfOd  SEi  355 

all  directions  upon  the  Society.  To  Franklin, 
who,  from  his  official  station  in  England,  became 
the  organ  of  these  communications,  it  was  de 
clared  by  an  accomplished  judge,  that  no  learned 
society  in  Europe  could  at  the  moment  beast  of 
a  member  possessing  the  various  merits  of  Ritten- 
house,  who  united,  in  his  own  person,  tact  as  an 
observer,  theoretic  skill  as  a  calculator,  and  prac 
tical  talent  as  a  constructor  of  instruments. 


356  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Transit  of  Mercury.  —  Longitudes  of  Phila 
delphia  and  Norriton.  —  Orrery  resumed.  — 
Comet  of  1770. 

THE  year  1769  was  marked,  not  only  by  a 
transit  of  Venus  over  the  sun's  disk,  but  also  by 
one  of  Mercury.  The  latter  phenomenon  is, 
however,  of  less  interest  than  the  former,  as  it  is 
of  more  frequent  occurrence,  and  could  not  be 
advantageously  employed  in  determining  the  di 
mensions  of  the  solar  system,  in  consequence  of 
the  much  greater  dbtance  between  it  and  the 
earth.  Rittenhoufe  observed  this  phenomenon 
also,  and  was  assisted  again  by  Messrs.  Smith  and 
Lukens,  together  with  Mr.  Owen  Biddle,  the  gen 
tleman  who  had  observed  the  transit  of  Venus  at 
Cape  Henlopen. 

This  observation  afforded  data  whence  to  calcu 
late  the  difference  of  longitude  between  his  obsei- 
ratory  at  Norriton,  and  the  State-house  Square 
\i  Philadelphia.  This  difference  had  indeed  been 
deduced  from  the  transit  of  Venus ;  but,  as  the 
parallaxes  of  the  sun  and  planet  must  be  as 
sumed  in  the  calculation  of  the  longitude,  and 
as  the  longitude  again  enters  into  the  calculation 


DAVID     RITTENHOUSE.  357 

of  the  parallaxes,  it  was  important  that  it  should 
be  obtained  by  an  independent  method.  The 
observation  having  been  made,  the  difference  of 
longitude  was  deduced  by  Rittenhouse  and  his 
associates.  The  observations  of  the  transit  of 
Venus  appeared  to  Maskelyne  very  important  in 
their  bearing  upon  a  true  knowledge  of  the  dimen 
sions  of  the  solar  system;  and,  as  the  longitudes 
of  Norriton  and  the  State-house  Square  were 
important  elements  of  the  calculation,  that  distin 
guished  astronomer  urged  the  members  of  the 
American  Philosophical  Society  to  ascertain  the 
difference  between  these  two  places,  not  only  by 
every  practicable  mode  then  employed  in  astron 
omy,  but  also  in  itinerary  measure.  The  longi 
tudes  of  both,  from  the  observatory  at  Greenwich; 
would  be  of  course  ascertained  in  the  employment 
of  the  first  of  these  methods.  These  essential 
operations  were  in  consequence  undertaken,  and 
performed  by  Provost .  Smith,  Lukens,  and  Rit 
tenhouse. 

Since  that  period  the  instruments  of  astronomy 
have  been  vastly  improved  ;  new  methods,  more 
easy  and  accurate,  founded  on  more  complete 
tables,  have  been  introduced ;  yet,  for  fifty  years 
from  the  date  of  this  operation,  the  longitude  of 
no  part  of  the  American  continent  had  been  deter 
mined  with  an  accuracy  equal  to  that  attained  for 
these  two  places,  by  the  operation  we  have  re 
ferred  to. 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

The  labors  preceding  and  attending  the  ob 
servation  of  the  transit  of  Venus  diverted  Ritten- 
house  for  a  time  from  his  mechanical  pursuits 
The  orrery,  projected  in  1767,  therefore  remained 
unfinished  upon  his  hands.  No  sooner,  however, 
was  this  interesting  subject  completed,  than  he  re 
turned  to  his  tools  with  increased  zeal.  Even  be 
fore  the  orrery  was  finished,  a  contest  commenced 
between  the  Colleges  of  Philadelphia  and  Prince 
ton,  to  determine  which  should  become  the  pro 
prietor  by  purchase  of  this  beautiful  piece  of  mech 
anism.  It  would  appear,  that  the  former  expected 
some  favor  would  be  shown  it,  either  in  price  or 
in  the  terms  of  payment.  Such  favor,  however, 
Rittenhouse,  whose  sole  resources  lay  in  his  own 
labor,  and  who  had  already  lost  much  time  and  ex 
pended  much  money  in  his  attention  to  astronomic 
subjects,  was  not  disposed  to  grant.  It  therefore 
became  the  property  of  the  institution  at  Prince 
ton,  of  whose  cabinet  it  is  still  the  pride. 

We  have  already  stated  some  of  the  important 
differences  between  this  instrument  and  any  other 
which  bears  the  same  name.  These  differences 
are  pointed  out  by  Rittenhouse  himself  in  a  com 
munication  to  Barton,  in  which  he  imparts  his 
original  design. 

"  I  did  not,"  says  he,  "  design  a  machine,  which 
should  give  to  the  ignorant  in  astronomy  a  just 
view  of  the  solar  system  ;  but  would  rather  aston- 


DAVID     R1TTENHOUSE.  359 

ish  the  skilful  and  curious  examiner,  by  a  most 
accurate  correspondence  between  the  situations 
and  motions  of  our  little  representatives  of  the 
heavenly  bodies,  and  the  situations  and  motions 
of  those  bodies  themselves.  I  would  have  my 
orrery  really  useful,  by  making  it  capable  of 
informing  us  truly  of  the  astronomic  phenomena 
for  any  particular  point  of  time ;  which  I  do  not 
find  that  any  orrery  yet  made  can  do." 

The  instrument,  as  constructed  in  entire  con 
formity  with  these  views,  presents  three  vertical 
faces.  That  in  front  is  four  feet  square.  In  the 
middle  is  a  ball  to  represent  the  Sun,  and  around 
this  others  revolve  to  represent  the  planets.  The 
latter  move  in  elliptical  orbits,  having  the  former  in 
their  common  focus,  and  at  rates  varying  accord 
ing  to  the  law  of  Kepler.  The  orbits  of  the 
several  planets  are  properly  inclined ;  their  nodes 
and  the  lines  of  their  apsides  are  in  just  position, 
and  have  motions  corresponding  to  those  of  the 
orbits  of  the  planets  themselves.  The  instrument 
being  set  in  motion,  three  indices  are  caused  to 
move,  which  point  out,  on  graduated  circles,  the 
year,  the  month,  and  the  day.  The  first  of  these 
extends  to  a  period  of  five  thousand  years.  In 
order  to  determine  the  heliocentric  place  of  any 
one  of  the  planets  for  any  day  within  this  period, 
the  instrument  is  caused  to  revolve  until  this  epoch 
is  marked  by  the  three  indices  ;  a  small  telescope 


360  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

is  then  placed  upon  the  body  of  the  mimic  Sun, 
and,  being  directed  to  the  representative  of  the 
planet,  the  position  of  the  latter  may  be  read  on 
a  graduated  circle  representing  the  zodiac.  This 
zodiac  is  not  fixed,  but  has  a  motion  correspond 
ing  with  the  precession  of  the  equinoxes.  The 
geocentric  place  is  determined  by  affixing  the 
same  telescope  to  the  earth,  and  is  read  off  upon 
a  circle,  whose  centre  is  the  movable  place  of 
the  earth  in  the  instrument. 

The  two  lateral  faces  of  the  orrery  have  the 
same  height  with  the  principal  one,  and  about 
h«iu  the  breadth.  Upon  one  of  them  are  repre 
sented  the  motions  of  Jupiter  and  his  satellites, 
and  of  Saturn,  his  ring,  and  satellites.  On  the 
other  the  phenomena  of  the  Moon's  motion  are 
exhibited,  her  phases,  the  exact  time  and  duration 
of  her  eclipses,  the  appearances  of  solar  eclipses 
for  any  given  position  of  the  earth,  the  Moon's 
longitude  and  latitude,  the  motions  of  her  apogee 
and  nodes.  In  addition,  it  exhibits  the  apparent 
motion  of  the  Sun  in  declination,  and  the  equation 
of  time. 

Were  it  not  that  the  instrument  actually  exists 
to  attest  that  all  this  has  been  successfully  exe 
cuted,  it  might  have  been  believed  that  such 
varied,  numerous,  and  complicated  motions  were 
incapable  of  being  represented  by  mechanism. 

The  calculation  of  the  longitudes  of  Norriton 


DAVID    KITTEN  HOUSE.  361 

and  Philadelphia  was  communicated  to  the  Amer 
lean  Philosophical  Society  in  August,  1770,  by 
Provost  Smith.  A  few  days  earlier  than  the 
date  of  this  communication,  Rittenhouse  laid  be 
fore  that  association  a  series  of  observations  on  a 
comet,  which  was  visible  in  June  and  July  of  that 
year.  To  the  observations  were  appended  cal 
culations  of  the  elements  of  its  motion  and  of  the 
figure  of  its  orbit.  In  this  paper  he  not  only  sus 
tained  the  reputation  he  had  acquired  as  a  skilful 
observer,  but  showed  himself  capable  of  perform 
ing  the  most  laborious  and  difficult  computations 
of  physical  astronomy.  The  amount  of  labor, 
manual,  bodily,  and  mental,  which  were  thus 
crowded  into  less  than  three  years  of  the  life  of 
Rittenhouse,  was  prodigious.  Other  men  may 
have  indeed  accomplished  as  much  and  more,  by 
directing  their  energies  steadily  to  a  single  pursuit. 
But  it  is  probable  that  there  is  no  other  instance 
on  record  of  such  a  variety  of  occupation  having 
been  successfully  executed  by  a  single  person 
within  so  small  a  space  of  time 
vii. — EE 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 


CHAPTER  X. 

His  Second  Orrery.  —  Proposed  Removal  to  Phil 
adelphia. —  Loan-Office  Bill. —  Gift  of  the 
Legislature.  —  Change  of  Residence.  —  Elec 
tion  as  Secretary  of  the  American  Philosophical 
Society.  —  Second  Marriage. — Proposed  Pub 
lic  Observatory. 

THE  cession  of  the  orrery  to  Princeton  College 
caused,  at  first,  no  little  dissatisfaction  in  Phila 
delphia.  But  this  event,  coupled  with  the  praises 
that  were  daily  pouring  in  from  Europe,  redound 
ed  in  the  end  to  the  advantage  of  Rittenhouse, 
and  exhibited  to  the  inhabitants  of  Pennsylvania 
the  high  value  of  the  talents  and  acquirements 
of  their  distinguished  fellow-citizen.  The  loss  of 
'.he  orrery  was  found  to  be  of  little  moment,  so 
long  as  they  could  command  the  knowledge  and 
manual  dexterity  by  which  it  had  been  executed  ; 
and  Rittenhouse  at  once  tendered  to  supply  it, 
by  making  for  the  College  of  Philadelphia  an 
exact  duplicate  of  the  original  instrument.  Al 
though  he  offered  to  do  this  at  a  price  incon 
ceivably  cheap,  the  funds  of  that  institution  were 
not  yet  adequate  to  the  purchase.  In  this  emer 
gency,  Provost  Smith  undertook  to  furnish  what 


DAVID     RITTENHOUSF..  363 

was  necessary,  by  delivering  a  course  of  public 
lectures  on  astronomy,  the  profits  of  which  were 
to  be  applied  to  the  purpose.  This  undertaking 
was  successful,  the  necessary  funds  were  raised, 
and  a  duplicate  of  the  orrery  of  Princeton  was 
placed  among  the  apparatus  of  the  College  of 
Philadelphia. 

A  just  appreciation  of  the  merits  of  Ritten- 
house  led  the  citizens  of  Philadelphia  about  this 
time  (1770)  to  desire  to  withdraw  him  from  his 
retirement  at  Norriton,  and  fix  his  residence  among 
themselves.  This  could  only  be  properly  done 
by  supplying  him  with  means  by  which  the  differ 
ence  in  the  cost  of  supporting  his  family,  upon  a 
well-stocked  and  fertile  farm,  and  in  a  city,  might 
be  compensated.  Simple  in  his  habits,  and  eco 
nomical  in  his  expenditure,  the  products  of  his 
paternal  estate  sufficed  in  a  great  degree  for  his 
wants,  and  he  was  enabled  to  afford  his  beautiful 
timekeepers  at  prices  which  gave  them  an  exten 
sive  sale.  Had  he  been  compelled  to  manufacture 
them  in  the  more  expensive  position  of  Philadel 
phia,  this  might  not  have  been  the  case.  At  this 
moment,  however,  an  office  presented  itself,  which 
demanded  a  residence  at  the  seat  of  government, 
and,  calling  for  high  integrity  and  much  intelli 
gence,  could  be  performed  with  little  labor ;  the 
emoluments  would  be  sufficient  to  justify  Rit- 
tenhouse  in  changing  his  abode.  This  post  was 


AMERICAN    BIOGRAPHY. 

that  of  one  of  the  commissioners  of  the  loan- 
office,  a  bill  for  the  regulation  of  which  was  pend 
ing  before  the  legislature  of  the  province  at  their 
session  of  1770.  The  commissioners  were  to  be 
three  in  number ;  and,  on  the  motion  to  place  the 
name  of  Rittenhouse  in  one  of  the  blanks  left 
for  the  insertion  of  the  names,  the  whole  Assem 
bly  rose  to  vote  in  the  affirmative.  A  point  of 
etiquette  was  however  in  dispute  between  the 
Assembly  and  the  Governor,  in  consequence  of 
which  it  appeared  probable  that  the  bill  would 
receive  his  veto.  It  was  therefore  permitted  by 
the  Assembly  to  sleep  among  their  unfinished 
business.  Yet  the  legislature,  willing  to  com 
pensate  him  for  the  disappointment  which  he 
might  sustain,  and  anxious  to  testify  their  sense 
of  his  merits,  voted  him  at  their  next  session  a 
free  gift  of  £300  currency,  and  in  addition  appro 
priated  £400  to  defray  the  cost  of  a  third  orrery 
of  double  the  dimensions  of  the  two  former  ones. 
This  gift,  which  is  perhaps  without  either  prece 
dent  or  imitation  in  the  legislative  annals  of  the 
country,  is  glorious  to  the  body  which  granted  it, 
and  honorable  to  the  party  which  received  it.  It 
is  expressed  in  the  resolution  to  be  "  a  testimony 
of  the  high  sense  which  this  House  entertains 
of  his  mathematical  genius  and  mechanical  abili 
ties." 

Rittenhouse   had,  before  the  date  of  this  vote. 


DAVID    KITTENHOUSE.  365 

namely,  in  the  autumn  of  1770,  become  a  resi 
dent  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia.  This  change 
of  abode  was  speedily  followed  by  a  distress 
ing  event,  the  loss  of  his  wife.  The  affliction 
consequent  on  this  bereavement  appears  to  have 
interfered  for  a  time  with  the  activity  of  his 
scientific  and  mechanical  pursuits,  and  to  have 
caused  him  to  meditate  an  expedition  to  Europe, 
which  he  was  advised  by  his  friends  to  undertake 
as  a  means  of  relief.  It  is,  nevertheless,  happily 
ordained  that  time  mitigates  the  most  severe  dis 
pensations  of  this  character,  and  the  mind  of  Rit- 
tenhouse  speedily  resumed  its  tone. 

In  1771,  the  American  Philosophical  Society, 
whose  meetings  his  change  of  abode  enabled  him 
to  attend  regularly,  elected  him  one  of  their 
secretaries.  The  palmy  days  of  that  association 
were  however  at  an  end ;  the  disputes  between 
the  colonies  and  the  mother  country  were  rapidly 
approaching  a  crisis,  and  the  minds  of  men  were 
diverted  from  all  pursuits,  except  those  essential 
to  subsistence,  by  the  all-absorbing  discussions  of 
politics.  From  the  time  of  the  publication  of  the 
first  volume  of  the  Transactions  of  this  Society, 
until  the  second  was  put  to  press,  fifteen  years 
elapsed,  and  an  interval  of  ten  years  exists  be 
tween  the  date  of  the  latest  communication  of  Rit- 
tenhouse  in  the  former,  and  of  his  earliest  in  the 
latter.  He  did  not  however  wholly  neglect  his 


366  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

scientific  studies,  for  in  1771  we  find  him  to  have 
been  engaged  with  Kinnersley  in  experiments  on 
the  electric  properties  of  the  gymnotus ;  but  the 
four  years  which  succeeded  his  removal  to  Phila 
delphia  seem  to  have  engaged  him  in  few  other 
pursuits  than  the  labors  of  his  business,  with  the 
exception  of  some  public  tasks,  a  part  of  which 
have  already  been  referred  to.  The  completion 
even  of  these  was  prevented  by  the  threatening 
aspect  of  public  affairs,  and  they  did  not  occupy 
much  of  his  time.  The  only  other  duty,  which 
was  assigned  him,  was  that  of  a  commissioner  for 
rendering  the  Schuylkill  navigable,  and  this  was 
also  reduced  to  little  importance  by  the  state  of 
public  feeling. 

During  this  interval,  Rittenhouse  recovered 
from  affliction  caused  by  the  death  of  his  first 
wife,  and  again  married.  The  object  of  his  sec 
ond  choice  was  Miss  Hannah  Jacobs  of  Phila 
delphia. 

The  year  1775  opened  with  a  project  intended 
to  bring  the  abilities  of  Rittenhouse  more  effec 
tually  into  the  service  of  science.  The  Phi 
losophical  Society  addressed  the  colonial  legis 
lature  of  Pennsylvania,  praying  it  to  establish  9 
public  observatory,  and  commit  it  to  the  care 
of  Rittenhouse.  Had  the  circumstances  of  the 
times  permitted  this  project  to  be  carried  into 
effect,  it  would  have  enabled  him  to  occupy  a 


DAVID     RITTENHOUSE.  367 

great  space  in  the  history  of  astronomy.  He 
had  already  shown  himself  the  equal,  in  point  of 
learning  and  skill  as  an  observer,  to  any  practi 
cal  astronomer  then  living ;  nothing  was  wanting 
to  make  him  rank  with  the  Flamsteads,  the  Hal- 
leys,  and  the  Maskelynes,  but  that  he  should 
be  permitted  to  devote  his  whole  mind  to  this 
pursuit,  and  be  furnished  with  those  instruments 
and  accommodations,  for  which  no  private  fortune 
will  suffice.  Other  men  might  have  been  found 
as  well,  nay,  better  qualified  for  the  political  pur 
suits  and  public  offices  in  which  it  became  his  fate 
to  spend  the  rest  of  his  life ;  but  America  has 
never  yet  produce'd  any  individual  who  has  mani 
fested  so  great  a  capacity  for  extending  the  do 
main  of  practical  astronomy.  To  arrange  the 
details  of  a  disorganized  and  depreciating  cur 
rency,  to  collect  and  disburse  a  scanty  and  ill-paid 
revenue,  were  thereafter  to  be  the  pursuits  of 
our  philosopher ;  and  he  was  to  expend  upon  the 
estimates  and  returns  of  the  tax-gatherer  those 
powers  of  mind  which  were  capable  of  grasping, 
and  that  mechanical  skill  which  sufficed  to  imitate, 
the  vast  mechanism  of  the  universe. 

From  the  time  at  which  Rittenhouse  removed 
to  Philadelphia,  the  minds  of  men  had  been  un 
dergoing  a  preparation  for  the  parts  they  were  to 
take  in  the  ensuing  contest.  The  inhabitants  of 
th*»  colonies  had  hitherto  been  remarkable  for 


•363  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

their  loyalty,  and,  in  the  earlier  remonstrances 
they  presented,  had  appealed  to  a  paternal  sove 
reign  from  the  acts  of  a  tyrannical  legislature  in 
which  they  were  not  represented.  As  the  crisis 
approached,  the  unanimity  with  which  such  re 
monstrances  had  been  made  no  longer  continued. 
Some,  rinding  that  the  acts  of  the  Parliament  were 
guided  and  directed  by  the  pleasure  of  the  mon 
arch,  unwillingly  acquiesced  in  his  sovereign  will. 
Others,  more  bold,  finding  redress  was  not  to  be  ob 
tained  by  peaceable  means,  sought  it  in  resistance. 
Among  the  latter  was  Rittenhouse,  who,  in  de 
fiance  of  the  influence  of  beloved  relatives,  en 
rolled  himself  at  an  early  date  on  what  became 
the  popular  side.  From  this  period  to  his  death, 
his  time  was  principally  spent  in  a  series  of  public 
duties,  some  of  which  had  reference  to  his  favorite 
scientific  pursuits ;  but  others,  and  those  the  most 
engrossing,  were  wholly  repugnant.  If  he  did  oc 
casionally  revert  to  his  original  profession,  and 
the  studies  in  which  he  had  acquired  reputation, 
it  was  at  distant  intervals,  and  rather  as  the  recre 
ation  of  leisure  from  other  pursuits,  than  as  the 
absorbing  occupation  of  his  mind. 


DAVID    KITTEN  HOUSE.  369 


CHAPTER  XI 

His  Election  to  the  Legislature  of  Pennsylvania. 
— First  Committee  of  Public  Safety. — Treas 
urer  of  the  State. —  Capture  of  Philadelphia, 
and  Removal  of  the  Treasury  to  Lancaster. — 
Second  Committee  of  Public  Safety.  — Tran 
sit  of  Mercury  and  Solar  Eclipses. 

THE  residence  of  Rittenhouse  in  the  city  of 
Philadelphia,  for  four  continuous  years  previous 
to  the  commencement  of  hostilities  between  the 
colonies  and  the  mother  country,  had  made  him 
familiarly  known  to  his  townsmen.  Although  he 
did  not  take  any  active  part  in  the  public  meet 
ings  and  deliberative  assemblies,  by  whose  dis 
cussions  the  friends  of  the  people  were  prepared 
for  a  resort  to  arms,  his  sentiments  were  not  con 
cealed  ;  and  the  reputation  he  had  acquired  point 
ed  him  out  as  one  to  whom  the  conduct  of  public 
affairs  might  safely  be  committed  in  a  moment  of 
emergency.  His  known  worth  and  ability  speedi 
ly  led  to  his  being  called  to  occupy  a  prominent 
position.  It  is  a  truth  which  all  experience 
seems  to  confirm,  that,  if  in  time  of  profound 
peace  the  management  of  republics  is  apt  to  fall 
into  the  hands  of  such  as  seek  office  only  for 

VOL.    VII. — FP       24 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

their  own  private  advantage  ;  in  the  hour  of  war 
and  of  danger,  it  is  most  usually  intrusted  to  those 
who  are  most  capable  of  directing  the  councils 
and  leading  the  armies  of  the  nation.  Our  own 
revolution  is  an  obvious  instance,  which  may  be 
cited  in  support  of  this  proposition. 

Franklin  had  been  elected  a  member  of  the 
Provincial  Assembly  of  Pennsylvania  for  the  year 
1775.  From  this  station  he  was  speedily  called 
to  the  General  Congress.  Rittenhouse  was  imme 
diately  chosen  to  fill  the  vacant  seat.  To  be 
installed  as  the  successor  of  such  a  man  was  no 
small  proof  of  the  confidence  reposed  in  him 
This  confidence  he  justified  by  the  useful,  if  not 
prominent  part,  which  he  took  in  the  deliberations 
of  the  body  of  which  he  thus  became  a  member 
at  this  eventful  and  important  period. 

The  ancient  government  being  speedily  dis 
solved  by  the  commencement  of  hostilities,  Rit 
tenhouse  was  chosen  a  member  of  the  convention 
called  for  the  purpose  of  framing  a  constitution ; 
and  when,  by  an  ordinance  of  that  convention, 
the  provisional  government  was  intrusted  for  a 
time  to  a  Committee  of  Public  Safety,  composed 
of  twenty-four  members,  Rittenhouse  was  includ 
ed  in  that  number.  On  the  promulgation  of  the 
constitution,  and  the  election  of  the  officers  and 
functionaries,  who  were  to  execute  it,  the  powers 
of  this  committee  ceased ;  but  the  public  duties 


1>AVID     RITTENHOUSE.  371 

of  Rittenhouse  did  not  terminate  with  the  expira 
tion  of  this  important  trust.  The  constitution 
had  provided  for  the  appointment  of  a  State 
treasurer  by  the  vote  of  the  lower  House  of  the 
legislature,  and  he  was  unanimously  elected  to 
this  responsible  and  laborious  office  on  the  14th 
of  January,  1776.  The  appointment  was  for  no 
more  than  a  single  year;  but  Rittenhouse  con 
tinued  to  be  annually  reflected,  until  he  declined 
any  longer  to  hold  the  office. 

Philadelphia,  which  had  been  threatened  by 
the  British  forces  from  Jersey  at  the  close  of  the 
year  1776,  was  made  the  object  of  a  powerful 
expedition,  which  proceeded  up  the  Chesapeake, 
in  the  summer  of  1777.  The  utmost  efforts  of 
the  forces  of  the  confederation  did  not  suffice  for 
the  protection  of  the  city,  and  it  fell  into  the  hands 
of  the  enemy  in  the  month  of  September.  In 
anticipation  of  the  possibility  of  this  event,  the  pub 
lic  offices  were  removed  in  haste  to  the  borough 
of  Lancaster,  at  which  place  the  legislature  was 
speedily  convened.  This  body,  considering  the 
emergency  of  the  case,  and  the  necessity  of 
prompt  and  energetic  measures,  not  only  to  resist 
the  invading  enemy,  but  to  repress  the  disaffected, 
determined  to  constitute  again  a  Committee  of 
Public  Safety,  to  which  powers  the  most  abso 
lute  and  extraordinary  were  given.  It  was  author 
ized  to  proceed  summarily,  and  even  to  inflict 


372  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

capital  punishment  upon  all  persons  "  inimical  to 
the  common  cause  of  liberty  and  the  United 
States  of  America."  This  committee  was  com 
posed  of  twelve  members,  of  whom  Rittenhouss 
was  one.  It  is  to  be  recorded  to  the  honor  of 
this  committee,  that,  during  a  time  of  the  most 
highly  exasperated  feeling  against  those  who  were 
considered  as  Tories,  no  exercise  of  these  extraor 
dinary  powers  appears  to  have  occurred,  and  that 
no  individual,  however  obnoxious,  appears  to  have 
sustained  injury,  either  in  person  or  property. 
The  duties  of  Rittenhouse  as  a  member  of  the 
Committee  of  Public  Safety,  and  still  more  as 
presiding  over  a  treasury  of  the  most  scanty  re 
sources,  and  liable  to  the  most  urgent  demands, 
were  arduous  in  the  extreme.  The  pressure  of 
these  duties  was  aggravated  by  a  separation  from 
his  family,  and  anxiety  for  their  safety.  On  the 
approach  of  the  enemy  to  Philadelphia,  he  had 
sent  them  to  Norriton ;  the  duties  of  removing 
the  treasury  from  that  city  prevented  him  from 
joining  them  and  making  them  the  partners  of 
his  further  flight.  Even  to  visit  them  from  Lan 
caster  would  have  been  attended  with  danger ;  for, 
although  Norriton  was  without  the  British  lines, 
it  was  not  sufficiently  distant  to  place  it  beyond 
the  reach  of  flying  parties  of  the  enemy,  and  a 
member  of  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety  would 
have  been  no  mean  prize.  On  the  other  hand, 


DAVID     RITTENHOUSE.  373 

a  woman  and  children  could  not  venture  to  trav 
erse  a  country  exposed  to  the  partisans  of  both 
armies. 

This  painful  separation  continued  for  nine 
months,  and  the  evacuation  of  Philadelphia  wao, 
in  consequence,  not  less  a  subject  of  rejoicing  to 
Rittenhouse  as  a  patriot,  than  as  a  husband  and  a 
father. 

During  this  period,  too,  he  was  exposed  to  anx 
iety  from  another  cause.  He  had  built  his  fame 
as  a  mechanic,  and  perhaps  as  an  astronomer, 
upon  his  orrery.  That  at  Princeton  was  reported 
to  have  been  destroyed,  and  apprehensions  seem 
to  have  been  entertained,  that  the  duplicate  at 
Philadelphia  might  have  suffered  from  the  wan 
tonness  of  a  licentious  soldiery.  It  was  not  until 
his  return  that  this  anxiety  was  removed.  It 
was  then  found  that  the  British  commanders  had 
respected  this  work  of  art,  and  had  taken  effectual 
measures  for  its  safety.  This  liberal  act  redounds 
highly  to  the  honor  of  Sir  William  Howe ;  and  it  is 
still  more  to  his  credit,  that,  after  appreciating  as 
he  fully  did  the  beauty  and  value  of  the  instru 
ment,  the  idea  of  treating  it  as  a  prize  of  war  seems 
never  to  have  occurred  to  him.  Had  he  been 
governed  by  the  principle,  which  has  more  recently 
directed  the  commanders  of  European  armies,  the 
orreries  of  Princeton  and  Philadelphia  might  at 
this  time  have  decorated  the  halls  of  Oxford  anH 


374  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

Cambridge,  for  both  were  at  different  times  at  his 
disposal. 

Although  the  anxieties  of  Rittenhouse  in  re 
spect  to  his  wife  and  children  were  of  short  du 
ration,  the  war  was  not  without  painful  influence 
upon  his  domestic  relations.  His  brother-in-law, 
the  Reverend  Mr.  Barton,  whom  we  have  seen  as 
the  early  friend,  and  the  assistant  of  the  studies, 
of  Rittenhouse,  was  naturally  led  to  take  an  oppo 
site  side  in  the  dissensions  of  the  times.  A  native 
of  Great  Britain,  arid  a  clergyman  of  the  estab 
lished  church,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  if  he  saw 
the  cause  of  quarrel  in  a  very  different  light  from 
that  in  which  it  was  viewed  by  his  relative.  Al 
though  neither  his  sacred  profession  nor  his  pru 
dence  permitted  him  to  take  any  active  part  in 
the  struggle,  he  felt  a  scruple  of  conscience,  which 
prevented  him  from  taking  an  oath  of  allegiance. 
He,  in  consequence,  could  not  escape  becoming 
obnoxious  to  the  new  government.  It  appears, 
that  he  was  subjected  to  inconvenience,  and  per 
haps  put  under  restraint ;  at  any  rate  it  became 
necessary  for  him  to  leave  Pennsylvania,  and  he 
was  compelled  to  make  interest  for  permission  to 
retire  to  New  York,  then  in  the  possession  of  the 
British  forces.  Painful  as  this  separation  must 
have  been,  it  did  not  put  an  end  to  the  personal 
friendship  of  the  two  relatives,  who  seem  to  have 
each  appreciated  the  pureness  of  the  other's  mo- 


DAVID     RITTENHOUSE.  375 

lives.  The  children  of  Barton,  who  were  of  an 
age  to  form  opinions  of  their  own,  did  not  partake 
of  their  father's  political  sentiments ;  their  protec 
tion,  therefore,  devolved  upon  Rittenhouse.  He 
was  also  the  means  of  procuring  for  Barton  vari 
ous  indulgences  required  by  his  position  as  an 
exile,  from  the  Supreme  Executive  Council  of  the 
State;  and  these,  with  other  good  offices,  were 
continued,  until  they  were  rendered  unnecessary 
by  the  death  of  Barton,  which  took  place  in  New 
York  in  1780. 

The  astronomical  pursuits  of  Rittenhouse  were 
not  wholly  abandoned,  even  during  this  period  of 
labor,  anxiety,  and  danger.  He  found  time  to 
observe  a  second  transit  of  Mercury,  which  took 
place  on  the  2d  of  November,  1776,  and  an 
eclipse  of  the  sun,  on  the  7th  of  January,  1777. 
In  the  first  of  these,  he  was  associated  with  his 
friends  Smith  and  Lukens,  and  in  the  second  with 
the  former  of  these  two  gentlemen.  On  the  24th 
of  June,  1778,  the  same  three  observers,  with 
Mr.  Owen  Biddle,  wer°  engaged  in  the  observa 
tion  of  an  eclipse  of  «un,  and  this  within  a 
week  of  the  evacuation  of  Philadelphia  by  the 
British  troops.  In  these  observations,  however,  it 
appears  by  the  record,  that  the  laborious  prelimi 
naries  were  now  performed  by  the  other  parties, 
and  there  is  no  trace  of  any  calculation  having 
been  founded  upon  them.  The  relation  of  the 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

parties  had  in  fact  become  the  reverse  of  what  it 
had  been  at  the  transit  of  Venus ;  thus  showing 
how  completely  his  other  pursuits  had  diverted 
Rittenhouse  from  the  cultivation  of  astronomy, 
although  they  had  not  been  able  to  conquer  hi<» 
taste  for  that  interesting  science. 


DAVID     RITTENHOUSE.  377 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Boundary  Lines  of  Pennsylvania  and  Virginia. 
—  Division  Line  of  Pennsylvania  and  New 
York.  —  Demarcation  of  Territory  reserved 
by  Massachusetts  uithin  the  State  of  New 
York. 

THE  pressure  of  a  public  enemy,  and  the  ob 
vious  necessity  of  union  in  opposing  him,  were 
not  sufficient  to  prevent  internal  disputes  in  re 
spect  to  territorial  jurisdiction,  and  property  in 
land  derived  from  conflicting  authorities.  The 
very  rejection  of  allegiance  to  a  common  sove 
reign,  by  removing  any  authority  paramount  to 
that  of  the  State  governments,  seemed  to  aggra 
vate  the  controversies ;  and  it  was  even  to  be 
feared,  that,  in  addition  to  acts  of  individual  vio 
lence,  States  of  the  confederation  might  be  ar 
rayed  against  each  other  in  open  hostilities. 

Among  'the  disputes,  which  thus  assumed  a 
threatening  aspect,  was  that  between  the  States 
of  Pennsylvania  and  Virginia.  The  line  of  Ma 
son  and  Dixon  had  not  been  extended  by  them 
beyond  the  western  limits  of  Maryland ;  and  here 
another  parallel  bscame  the  chartered  boundary 
in  a  direction  from  eas*  *o  west  while  the  western 


* 

378  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

limit  of  the  grant  to  Penn  was  a  line  parallel  to 
the  windings  of  the  Delaware,  and  was  even  more 
vague  than  an  unexplored  parallel.  A  wide  space 
of  country  was  thus  covered  by  two  conflicting 
claims,  and  settlers,  holding  titles  under  both,  had 
entered  upon  the  disputed  territory.  It  so  hap 
pens  that  within  this  very  space  are  included  some 
of  the  most  fertile  lands  in  the  Union ;  and  thus 
the  pioneers  of  cultivation,  leaping  at  once  over 
the  wide  extent  of  rugged  cliffs  and  narrow  valleys 
of  the  Appalachian  group  of  mountains,  had  en 
tered  upon  this  inviting  district  at  a  comparatively 
early  period.  Those,  who  held  titles  from  the 
proprietaries  of  Pennsylvania,  seem  to  have  been 
the  first  to  attempt  to  subdue  this  part  of  the  wil 
derness  ;  but  they  were  speedily  followed  by  those, 
who  claimed  under  the  land  warrants  of  Virginia. 
As  no  common  jurisdiction  was  acknowledged  by 
the  two  parties,  ejectments  were  attempted,  and 
possessions  were  maintained  by  force. 

In  order  to  bring  these  disputes  to  an  amicable 
settlement,  commissioners  were  mutually  appoint 
ed  by  the  two  States  in  1779.  Rittenhouse  was 
named  first  on  the  Pennsylvania  commission,  and 
with  him  were  associated  Professor  Ewing  and 
Mr.  Bryan.  On  the  part  of  Virginia  were  nomi 
nated  the  Reverend  Dr.  Madison  and  Professor 
Andrews.  The  commissioners,  after  a  short  ses 
sion,  agreed  that  the  boundary  between  the  two 


DAVID      RITTENHOUSE.  379 

States  should  thenceforth  be,  an  extension  of  Ma 
son  and  Dixon's  line  due  west  to  the  distance  of 
five  degrees  of  longitude  from  the  river  Delaware, 
and,  from  the  termination  of  this  line,  a  meridian 
drawn  northward  to  the  Ohio. 

The  uncertainty  in  which  the  determination  of 
i  degree  of  longitude  is  necessarily  involved,  par 
ticularly  in  the  absence  of  any  astronomical  inves 
tigation,  was  however  such,  that  great  doubt  ex 
isted,  even  after  the  conclusion  of  this  convention, 
as  to  the  place  where  the  appointed  limit  existed  ; 
and  thus,  although  the  space  was  narrowed,  the 
disputes  and  acts  of  aggression  were  not  the  less 
violent.  Such  was  the  warmth  with  which  the 
contest  was  carried  on,  that  a  civil  war  was  appre 
hended,  and  Congress  conceived  it  necessary  to 
interpose  its  paternal  advice,  in  order  to  avert 
the  calamity. 

The  joint  commission  was  however  still  con 
tinued ;  and,  it  being  understood  that  it  was  to 
proceed,  with  as  little  delay  as  possible,  to  deter 
mine  the  limits  by  astronomical  observation,  and  to 
trace  them  upon  the  ground,  the  knowledge  that 
strict  and  impartial  justice  would  thus  be  finally 
obtained  had  an  irresistible  influence  in  averting 
the  threatening  evil.  The  discussion  was  not, 
however,  finally  adjusted  until  after  the  close  of 
hostilities  with  Great  Britain.  Up  to  the  final 
settlement,  Rittenhouse  was  retained,  by  succes- 


380  AMERICAN    BIOGRAPHY. 

sive  appointments,  in  his  office  of  commissioner 
In  this  capacity,  he  not  only  directed  and  partly 
executed  the  observations  necessary  to  trace  the 
parallel,  to  determine  the  difference  of  longi 
tude,  and  mark  out  the  meridian;  but  was  com 
pelled  to  enter  into  a  variety  of  other  questions. 
That  the  adjustment  was  at  last  made  in  an  ami 
cable  manner,  is  in  no  small  degree  to  be  ascribed 
to  his  moderation,  firmness,  and  acknowledged  su 
periority  in  astronomical  knowledge. 

In  this,  and  in  all  other  subsequent  operations 
of  this  sort  in  which  Rittenhouse  was  engaged, 
either  under  the  authority  of  his  own  State  or 
that  of  others,  he  was  constantly  first  named  in 
che  commissions,  of  which  he  in  consequence  be 
came  the  chief.  It  was  fortunate  that  the  high 
public  and  political  stations  which  he  occupied 
entitled  him  at  once  to  this  preeminence,  while 
his  admitted  excellence  as  an  observer  gave  him 
on  all  occasions  the  undisputed  direction  of  the 
methods  calculated  to  produce  the  most  authen 
tic  results.  It  is  to  this  that  we  must  ascribe, 
in  no  small  degree,  the  ease  and  certainty  with 
which  many  of  our  internal  territorial  disputes 
were  settled,  and  the  fact  that  no  appeal  has 
ever  been  made  from  the  decisions  of  any  com 
mission  of  which  he  formed  a  part.  A  differ 
ent  policy  has  governed  Great  Britain  and  the 
United  States  in  the  adjustment  of  the  boundary 


DAVID     RITTENHOU3E.  381 

between  their  respective  territories;  and  thus  it 
has  happened,  that  points,  which  might  have  been 
settled  by  two  intelligent  astronomers  in  the  course 
of  a  few  hours,  and  lines  whose  actual  delineation 
on  the  ground  would  have  occupied  but  a  few 
months,  have  been  involved  by  the  ingenuity  of 
professional  advocates  in  a  mist  of  their  own  crea 
tion,  and  have  from  year  to  year  appeared  more 
and  more  remote  from  any  satisfactory  conclusion. 

The  settlement  of  the  boundaries  of  Pennsyl 
vania  and  Virginia  was  the  most  important  of  all 
the  commissions  on  which  Rittenhouse  served. 
The  line  was  completed  in  1784.  The  other 
operations  of  the  sort,  in  which  he  was  engaged, 
were,  the  division  Hue  between  the  States  of 
New  York  and  Pennsylvania,  defined  by  the 
forty-third  parallel  of  latitude,  in  the  astronomi 
cal  determination  of  which  he  spent  the  summer 
of  1786;  and  the  demarkation  of  a  territory  the 
right  of  soil  in  which  the  State  of  Massachusetts 
had  accepted,  in  lieu  of  a  contested  claim  both  to 
the  land  and  the  jurisdiction  of  a  large  part  of  the 
State  of  New  York. 

The  last-mentioned  duty  was  assigned  him  by 
the  Congress  of  the  confederation.  This  body 
had  found  it  necessary  to  interfere  in  order  to 
prevent  the  dangerous  consequences,  which  at 
one  time  appeared  likely  to  flow  from  the  dispute. 

The  original  grant  from  the  crown  of  England, 


382  AMERICAN      BIOGRAPH5. 

under  which  the  State  of  Massachusetts  claimed, 
was  limited  only  by  the  Pacific  Ocean.  The  oc- 
capation  of  both  banks  of  the  Hudson  river  by 
a  colony  from  Holland,  and  the  conquest  of  this 
co'ony,  had  vested  the  settled  parts  of  New  York 
in  the  crown,  by  a  right  derived  from  conquest. 
At  the  close  of  the  revolutionary  war,  the  State 
of  Massachusetts  claimed,  that  this  right  could 
only  be  extended  to  the  actual  settlements,  and 
that  the  whole  of  the  territory  west  of  them  re 
verted  to  the  holders  of  the  prior  grant.  After 
much  discussion,  this  State  finallv  agreed  to  re- 

*          O 

nounce  all  claim  to  the  sovereignty,  and  to  accept 
in  lieu  the  property  of  a  territory  divided  from 
the  rest  of  the  State  of  New  York  by  a  meridian 
line  drawn  northward  from  a  point  in  the  northern 
boundary  of  Pennsylvania,  distant  eighty-two  miles 
from  the  Delaware  river.  Out  of  this,  however, 
were  to  be  left  certain  townships  and  other  res 
ervations. 

The  determinations  necessary  to  set  off  this 
territory  were  made  by  Rittenhouse,  and  were 
the  last  operations  of  the  kind  in  which  he  was 
engaged.  They  occupied  him  during  a  great  part 
of  the  year  1787. 

We  have  already  adverted  to  the  influence, 
which  the  fact,  that  many  of  the  territorial  di 
visions  of  the  United  States  were  geographical 
lines,  capable  of  being  determined  by  astronomical 


DAVID      RITTENHOUSE.  383 

methods,  calling  neither  for  legal  discussion,  noi 
admitting  of  a  just  resort  to  arms,  had  upon  the 
early  destinies  of  our  confederated  republic.  Wo 
can  now  see  the  important  bearing,  which  the  pos 
session  of  an  astronomer,  6*f  such  acknowledge? 
talent  as  Rittenhouse,  had  in  the  pacific  adjust 
ment  of  these  questions.  This  was  the  more 
important,  as  every  commission,  on  which  he 
served,  began  and  terminated  its  labors  before 
the  confederation  had  derived  strength  from  the 
adoption  of  a  federal  constitution,  capable  of  ena 
bling  it  to  restrain  those  States,  which  might  have 
thought  it  expedient  to  support  their  pretensions 
by  arms. 


384  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

His  Appointment  as  'Trustee  of  the  Loan-  Offict 
—  Retirement  from  Office  as  State  Treasurer. 
— —  Private  Observatory.  —  Commissioner  to 
organize  a  Bank  of  the  United  States.  — 
Director  of  the  Mint  of  the  United  States 
—Resignation  of  that  Office. 

DURING  the  performance  of  his  duties  as  com 
missioner  for  running  and  determining  astronomi 
cally  the  several  boundary  lines  of  which  we  have 
spoken,  Rittenhouse  continued  to  exercise  the 
functions  of  treasurer  of  the  State.  In  the  year 
1780,  the  office  of  trustee  of  the  loan-office  was 
also  conferred  upon  him.  To  the  former  of  these 
trusts  he  declined  a  reelection  in  the  year  1789, 
after  having  held  it  by  unanimous  annual  elections 
for  thirteen  years.  The  causes,  which  he  assigns 
in  his  letter  of  resignation,  are  ill  health  and  the 
inadequacy  of  the  emoluments  to  the  labor  and 
responsibility  he  incurred  in  the  performance  of 
the  duties.  During  the  time  in  which  he  held  the 
office  of  treasurer,  it  was  in  truth  one  of  difficulty 
and  danger,  and  he  was  compelled  to  conduct  it 
throughout  in  the  face  of  a  continually  depreciat 
ing  currency,  which  finally  ceased  to  have  any  ex-* 


DAVID     KITTEN  HOUSE.  385 

changeable  value.  During  a  part  of  the  time,  his 
emoluments,  which  were  received  in  the  form  of 
a  commission,  did  not  admit  of  his  employing  a 
clerk,  and  he  was  indebted  to  the  aid  of  his  wife 
for  the  performance  of  such  of  his  duties  as  re 
quired  an  amanuensis. 

In  addition  to  the  duties  of  his  office  of  treas 
urer,  and  his  temporary  appointments  as  commis 
sioner  of  boundaries,  he  was  placed  by  the  legis 
lature  of  Pennsylvania  on  several  boards  formed 
for  the  purpose  of  projecting  internal  improve 
ments  ;  and  he  received  appointments  of  a  similar 
character  after  he  had  left  the  treasury.  The 
circumstances  of  the  times  were,  however,  little 
favorable  to  the  execution  of  such  contemplated 
works ;  and  even  the  plans  which  became  a  matter 
of  discussion  were  contracted,  in  consequence  of 
the  general  poverty  of  the  community.  The 
time  had  not  arrived  when  the  gigantic  mind  of 
Clinton  saw,  in  well-chosen  plans  of  internal 
communication,  the  sure  means  of  defraying  their 
cost,  and  when  the  success  of  the  New  York 
canals  demonstrated  that  a  debt,  incurred  for  such 
purposes,  could  never  be  more  than  a  temporary 
burden. 

His  trust  in  the  loan-office  terminated  in  1790 
by  a  law,  which  merged  that  establishment  in  the 
general  treasury  of  the  State,  from  which  he  had 
retired,  as  we  have  stated,  during  the  previous 

VOL.  VII. — GO  25 


386  AMERICAN     B1OGKAPHY 

year.  He  had,  as  has  been  mentioned  before, 
been  named  in  a  bill  introduced  into  the  legisla 
ture  of  the  province,  at  an  early  period  of  his  life 
for  a  similar  trust ;  but  this  bill  did  not  then  be 
come  a  law,  nor  was  a  loan-office  reestablished 
until  after  the  declaration  of  independence.  The 
object  of  such  offices  was  to  supply  the  deficiency 
of  a  circulating  medium,  by  granting  loans  to  the 
owners  of  real  estate,  upon  the  security  of  their 
property,  in  paper  money. 

These  bills  of  credit  were  not  payable  on  de 
mand,  but  redeemable  by  the  payment  of  instal 
ments  upon  the  loans,  and  by  the  appropriation 
of  the  annual  interest.  Founded  thus  upon  a 
security  not  readily  accessible,  it  was  a  nice 
question,  requiring  the  utmost  skill  and  prudence 
to  adjust,  what  amount  might  be  safely  thrown 
into  circulation,  without  a  risk  of  depreciation  in 
the  currency  itself.  Such  depreciation  did  take 
place  in  many  of  the  provinces  j  and  it  is  to  the 
varying  rate  of  this  depreciation,  that  we  are  to 
ascribe  the  original  difference  in  the  value  of 
currencies  bearing  the  same  denominations  in  all 
the  different  provinces.  In  after  times  a  specie 
currency  circulated  along  with  the  bills  of  credit ; 
and  thus,  while  the  paper  might  vary  in  value,  no 
further  change  took  place  in  the  legal  tender. 
.  The  loan-office  system  not  only  required  caution 
in  the  legislature  to  prevent  its  depreciation,  bui 


DAVID     R1TTENHOUSE.  387 

a  great  degree  of  knowledge,  firmness,  and  mod 
eration  in  its  trustees ;  as  to  them  was  committed 
the  task  of  judging  of  the  securities  offered  for 
the  loans,  of  calling  in  the  several  instalments, 
and  collecting  the  interest;  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  they  were  required,  in  the  exercise  of  sound 
discretion,  to  give  extensions  of  time,  when  neces 
sary  to  prevent  the  ruin  of  the  mortgager,  or  the 
unnecessary  sacrifice  of  his  property.  i 

Under  the  administration  of  Rittenhouse,  the 
State  of  Pennsylvania  issued  a  large  amount  of 
bills  of  credit,  in  addition  to  those  already  in  cir 
culation  ;  but,  such  was  the  prudence  with  which 
the  loans  were  made,  and  such  the  indulgent  firm 
ness  with  which  the  payments  were  enforced,  that 
no  loss  accrued  to  the  State,  nor  was  there  any 
failure  in  their  regular  redemption.  In  fact,  when 
the  loan-office  system  was  put  an  end  to  by  a 
clause  in  the  constitution  of  the  United  States, 
that  of  Pennsylvania  may  probably  be  cited  as 
that,  which  had  been  best  administered,  and  had, 
without  any  loss  to  the  holders,  been  productive 
of  the  greatest  benefit  to  the  community.  This 
example,  however  favorable  in  its  results,  is  not 
to  be  quoted  as  justifying  a  mode  of  creating  a 
currency,  which  is  so  liable  to  abuse. 

It  appears  as  if  Rittenhouse,  in  retiring  from  the 
office  of  treasurer,  had  determined  to  resume,  with 
more  regularity  and  attention  than  he  had  at  any 


AMERICAN      BIOGRAPHY. 

period  of  his  life  been  able  to  devote  to  it,  the 
study  of  his  favorite  science  of  astronomy.  For 
this  purpose  he  had  erected  an  observatory  on  the 
lot  in  Philadelphia,  on  which  he  also  built  a  house 
for  his  own  residence.  Various  circumstances  and 
engagements,  however,  prevented  his  entering  in 
to  any  connected  series  of  observations,  nor  was 
he  ever  able  to  carry  his  intention  fully  into 
effect.  In  truth,  no  sooner  had  he  detached 
himself  from  the  public  business  of  the  State  of 
Pennsylvania,  than  he  was  called  into  the  service 
of  the  general  government. 

Although  he  did  not  enter  into  such  a  regu 
lar  course  of  observations  as  may  be  neces 
sary  to  extend  the  bounds  of  science,  he  not 
withstanding  noted  every  phenomenon  of  interest 
which  presented  itself.  Of  these  observations, 
some  of  the  records  have  been  published.  These 
are,  the  transit  of  Mercury  in  1789,  two  lunar 
eclipses  in  1789  and  1790,  and  the  two  solar 
eclipses  of  the  8th  of  November,  1790,  and  the  3d 
of  April,  1791.  These  observations  are  referred 
to  by  Lalande,  in  his  great  work  on  astronomy, 
and  he  quotes  the  private  observatory  of  Ritten- 
house,  as  the  only  one  on  the  continent  of  America 
where  any  observations  of  value  had  been  made. 

The  first  appointment,  which  he  held  under  the 
federal  constitution,  was  that  of  commissioner  for 
receiving  subscriptions  to  the  Bank  of  the  United 


DAVID      RITTENHOUSE.  389 

States  ;  and,  when  the  law  establishing  a  national 
mint  was  passed,  he  had  the  high  honor  to  be 
named  by  Washington  as  its  first  director.  In 
this  capacity  he  found  himself  engaged  in  a  most 
arduous  task.  Not  only  were  the  machinery  and 
other  fixtures  to  be  constructed,  in  a  country  where 
the  little  of  mechanical  skill  which  had  once  ex 
isted  had  expired  under  the  pressure  of  a  long 
and  devastating  war ;  but  the  very  persons,  who 
were  to  be  intrusted  with  the  most  important 
parts  of  the  process,  were  to  be  formed  under 
his  auspices. 

With  such  difficulties  in  his  way,  it  is  sufficient 
for  the  reputation  of  Rittenhouse  to  say,  that  the 
mint  of  his  construction  continued  to  be  adequate, 
without  any  radical  change,  to  all  the  wants  of 
the  country,  until  a  very  recent  period.  It  would 
be  unfair  to  institute  a  comparison  between  it  and 
the  establishments  of  the  same  description,  which 
have  been  erected  or  remodelled  within  the  pres 
ent  century.  But,  if  we  judge  it  in  reference  to 
the  state  of  the  art  as  it  existed  in  1792,  the 
mint  of  the  United  States  might  rank  before  any 
other  in  the  perfection  of  its  workmanship,  and 
the  accuracy  of  its  processes.  The  beautiful 
coinage  which  will  perpetuate  the  name  of  the 
Emperor  Napoleon  as  surely  as  his  victories,  and 
rhe  splendid  specimens  of  art  which  appeared 
when  the  bank  of  England  resumed  specie  pay- 


390  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY 

merits,  had  not  yet  been  struck,  nor  bad  Bolton 
applied  the  engine  of  his  partner  to  improve  and 
facilitate  the  processes  of  the  mint. 

The  duties  thus  imposed  on  Rittenhouse  were 
performed  with  his  accustomed  industry  and  en 
ergy.  Even  after  the  organization  was  complete, 
and  every  part  in  full  operation,  he  pursued  all 
the  processes,  and  superintended  all  the  details 
with  unremitting  assiduity.  So  long  as  his  health 
permitted,  he  was  daily  at  his  post,  although  per 
sona]  attendance  was  no  longer  absolutely  neces 
sary  ;  and,  when  prevented  from  paying  his  ac 
customed  visit,  he  organized  a  system  of  written 
reports,  by  which  every  part  of  the  work  was 
fully  exhibited  to  him. 

Such  close  and  unremitting  attention  were  un 
favorable  to  his  health.  The  organic  disease, 
which  had  been  induced  in  his  youth  by  exces 
sive  attention  to  his  mechanical  and  scientific  pur 
suits,  but  which  had  been  resisted  by  a  constitu 
tion,  naturally  vigorous  and  strengthened  by  agri 
cultural  labors,  began  at  length  to  gain  upon  him. 
He  in  consequence  resolved  to  retire  from  this 
laborious  office,  and  resigned  the  direction  of  the 
mint  in  June,  1795,  after  having  organized  and 
brought  it  into  successful  operation. 

It  appears  more  than  probable,  that,  considering 
the  depressed  state  of  the  arts  in  the  United 
States  at  this  period,  had  not  Rittenhouse  pre 


• f 

DAVID      RITTENHOUSE.  391 

sented  himself,  possessing  the  united  talents  of  a 
skilful  mechanic,  and  a  learned  natural  philoso 
pher,  the  nation  must  have  been  compelled  to 
resort  to  Europe  for  a  person  qualified  to  erect 
and  set  in  motion  this  important  institution. 


AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHJ. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

He  is  elected  President  of  the  Democratic  Society 

—  Declining  Health.  —  Death.  —  Character. 

—  Literary   and    Scientific    Honors.  —  Con 
clusion. 

RITTENHOUSE  lived  long  enough  to  witness  the 
commencement  of  the  long  struggle,  which  divided 
the  people  of  the  United  States  into  two  opposing 
political  parties.  This  contest  began  during  the 
administration  of  Washington,  and  terminated  only 
with  the  war  against  Great  Britain.  Of  these 
two  parties,  the  one  was  accused  of  cherishing 
aristocratic  sentiments;  the  other  claimed  to  be 
exclusively  the  friends  of  popular  rights.  It  would 
be  a  needless  revival  of  animosities,  which  have 
long  since  been  buried,  to  examine  into  the  truth 
of  this  accusation,  or  the  justice  of  such  an  exclu 
sive  claim.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  the  latter  of  the 
two  parties  sought  to  increase  its  strength  by  the 
organization  of  associations  under  the  name  of 
Democratic  Societies,  throughout  the  Union. 

Rittenhouse  was  too  important  a  personage, 
both  in  character  and  station,  to  escape  being 
involved  in  this  discussion,  at  least  in  name.  The 
Democratic  Society  of  Philadelphia,  as  soon  as  it 


DAVID     RITTENHOUSE.  393 

was  formed,  elected  him  its  president.  In  the 
embittered  contest  which  followed,  these  societies 
were  accused,  by  their  opponents,  of  the  design 
of  subverting  all  government,  and  of  desiring  to 
imitate  the  worst  excesses  of  the  French  Jacobins, 
thus  retorting  the  accusation  of  an  attempt  to 
establish  an  aristocracy,  and  even-  of  favoring  a 
monarchy. 

Rittenhouse  did  not  escape  being  included  in 
the  accusation,  with  the  additional  charge  of  en 
tering  into  opposition  to  an  administration,  under, 
which  he  held  a  situation  of  trust  and  emolument. 
The  best  defence  which  has  been  made  for  him 
is  limited  to  the  statement,  that  his  office  of  presi 
dent  was  merely  nominal ;  that  he  rarely  attended 
the  meetings  of  the  Society,  and  that  the  state  of 
his  health  prevented  him  from  being  aware  of  its 
tendency.  To  do  away  such  excuse,  he  has  been 
charged  with  having  permitted  himself  to  be  made 
the  tool  of  designing  politicians.  At  the  present 
day,  no  such  defence  is  necessary  ;  the  principles, 
which  the  Democratic  Society  was  formed  to  pro 
mulgate,  have  become  the  acknowledged  rules  of 
both  the  general  and  State  governments ;  and,  if 
Rittenhouse  be  liable  to  any  reproach,  it  may  be 
couched  in  terms  derived  from  his  own  trade  ;  h*s 
timepiece  only  went  a  little  faster  than  those  of  his 
neighbors.  So  much  of  the  accusation,  as  relates 
to  his  having  arrayed  himself  in  opposition  to  the 


394  AMERICAN    BIOGRAPHY. 

administration  of  Washington,  is  answered  by  the 
fact,  that  his  resignation  of  office  under  it  was  ac 
cepted  with  extreme  reluctance. 

It  is  however  due  to  historical  truth  to  stale, 
that  Rittenhouse  did  not  take  any  active  part  in  the 
operations  of  this  Society,  although  he  often  ap 
peared  before  the  public  as  their  presiding  officer. 
He  in  fact  continued  to  decline  in  health  from  the 
time  of  his  resignation  of  the  office  of  director 
of  the  mint,  which  he  survived  little  more  than 
a  year.  Rittenhouse  had  not  only  been  warned 
by  his  infirmities  to  retire  from  public  life,  but  was 
aware  of  the  gradual  decay  of  his  constitution. 
He  was  sensible  of  the  close  approach  of  death, 
and  prepared  to  meet  it  with  philosophic  firmness 
and  Christian  resignation.  Although  he  had  never 
united  himself  to  any  of  the  various  sects  which 
abound  in  our  country,  his  early  education  had 
imbued  him  with  reverence  for  the  Christian  doc 
trine,  and  his  subsequent  studies  had  impressed 
on  his  mind  a  conviction  of  the  existence  of  a 
Deity.  Although  accused  by  his  enemies  of  infi 
delity,  he  was  far  from  being  such,  and  sought, 
on  the  approach  of  his  mortal  disease,  the  con 
solations  of  religion,  while  his  mind  retained  all 
its  wonted  vigor.  His  death  took  place  on  the 
26th  of  June,  1796,  in  the  sixty-fifth  year  of  his 
age. 

The  person  of  Rittenhouse  is  described  as  tall 


DAVID      RITTENHOUSE.  395 

and  slender,  his  temper  as  placid  and  good  hu 
mored,  although  capable  of  strong  excitement. 
In  the  capacity  of  a  husband  and  a  father  he 
was  exemplary,  and  his  social  virtues  insured  him 
general  esteem. 

It  is  not  necessary  that  we  should  state  that  he 
was  industrious  and  energetic  in  the  pursuit  of  his 
mechanical  business,  in  his  scientific  studies,  and 
in  the  execution  of  the  various  public  trusts  he 
was  called  to  fulfil.  The  sketch  we  have  given 
of  the  principal  events  of  his  life  is  a  sufficient 
evidence  of  these  points  of  his  character. 

His  published  works  are  principally  contained  in 
the  "  Transactions  of  the  American  Philosophical 
Society,"  in  which  they  occupy  a  prominent  part. 
They  consist  chiefly  of  the  records  and  calcula 
tions  of  the  astronomical  observations  which  we 
have  particularized,  and  of  papers  on  other  sub 
jects  in  physical  science.  We  have  also  an 
oration  on  astronomy,  delivered  by  him  before 
the  same  learned  body  in  1775,  and  several  short 
pieces  relating  to  subjects  of  temporary  interest. 

Although  denied  in  youth  the  advantages  of 
a  collegiate  education,  his  reputation  earned  for 
him  honorary  degrees,  not  only  from  the  Univer 
sity  of  Pennsylvania,  but  from  other  literary  insti 
tutions  in  the  United  States.  Of  the  University 
of  Pennsylvania  he  was  long  a  useful  and  active 
trustee,  and  held  for  a  time  the  appointment  of 


396  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

professor  of  astronomy.  He  was  also  chosen  an 
honorary  member  of  the  only  learned  association, 
other  than  the  American  Philosophical  Society, 
which  had  been  formed  in  the  United  States  pre 
vious  to  his  decease.  Of  the  American  Philo 
sophical  Society,  he  was  in  succession  an  active 
and  distinguished  member,  secretary,  vice-presi 
dent,  and  president.  In  the  last  office  he  suc 
ceeded  Franklin,  and  was  followed  by  Jefferson. 
More  than  one  foreign  society  of  the  highest 
reputation  solicited  the  honor  of  enrolling  him 
as  an  associate ;  and  towards  the  close  of  his  life 
he  received  the  highest  mark  of  distinction,  which 
the  scientific  world  at  that  time  acknowledged,  in 
being  chosen  a  foreign  member  of  the  Royal 
Society  of  London. 

In  order  that  the  value  of  this  compliment  may 
be  fully  appreciated,  it  may  be  necessary  to  ex 
plain,  that,  as  the  Royal  Society  derives  no  direct 
endowment  from  the  government,  it  is  principally 
supported  by  the  pecuniary  contributions  of  its 
fellows.  Among  them  we  therefore  find  not  only 
names  of  distinction  in  science,  and  of  those  who 
take  an  active  part  in  its  transactions,  but  of  those 
who  are  qualified  only  by  birth,  station,  or  fortune, 
united  to  a  desire  to  promote  the  interests  of 
learning.  For  the  same  reason,  this  Society  does 
not  refuse  to  enroll  among  its  ordinary  fellows, 
foreigners  of  fair  scientific  reputation,  who,  like 


DAVID     RITTENHOUSE.  397 

the  subjects  of  Great  Britain,  are  required  to 
contribute  to  its  funds.  In  this  capacity,  a  con 
siderable  number  of  Americans  have  been  chosen 
fellows.  To  be  permitted  to  use  this  title,  and 
have  at  the  same  time  the  privilege  of  increasing 
the  funds  by  which  the  publications  of  the  society 
are  effected,  is  no  small  honor ;  as  such,  it  is 
eagerly  sought,  and  highly  valued.  But,  when 
the  Royal  Society  chooses  to  elect  a  foreign  mem 
ber,  this  choice  imports,  that  it  has  sought  to  con 
fer  honor  upon  itself  by  placing  on  its  list,  without 
receiving  any  pecuniary  equivalent,  a  name  already 
distinguished,  and  likely  to  be  celebrated  in  the 
history  of  science.  Such  was  the  reputation  of 
the  Royal  Society  at  the  time  this  honor  was  con 
ferred  upon  Rittenhouse,  that  it  was  the  proudest 
distinction  which  a  man  of  science  could  attain, 
and  would  have  been  the  fit  reward  of  a  life  spent 
in  the  pursuit  of  physical  learning. 

We  have  thus  traced  the  subject  of  our  memoir 
from  his  birth  in  an  obscure  part  of  a  newly 
reclaimed  wilderness,  under  circumstances  which 
denied  him  many  of  the  usual  advantages  of  edu 
cation,  until,  by  the  force  of  industry,  talents,  and 
genius,  he  had  reached  the  acme  of  scientific  hon 
or.  Our  task  is  therefore  concluded,  and  will  have 
been  successfully  performed,  if  it  shall  only  recall 
to  his  countrymen  the  memory  of  a  name,  which 
engrossing  pursuits  of  a  very  different  character 


398  AMERICAN     BIOGRAPHY. 

from  those  in  which  its  celebrity  was  acquired, 
have  caused  them  in  some  measure  to  forget,  or 
to  regard  with  no  due  reverence  ;  and  if  we  shall 
have  been  able  to  assert  for  him  the  right  of  pri 
ority  in  scientific  discoveries  and  researches,  of 
which  others  have  reaped  the  honors. 


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